Unforeseen Future
by SuperYellowSentai
Summary: After his world crumples around him, can his family prevent him from spiraling into anger and alcohol like John once did? Can they find the very thing that caused it to crash? Sequel to Unplanned Parenthood.
1. Chapter One

**(A/N- Sooo this is the sequel to my previous story Unplanned Parenthood. You are welcome to read this first if you want, but I have changed a lot of the Winchester backstory from the Series. So you might be a little confused on some of the concepts. I tried and put some explanations in the midst of everything, just in case.)**

 **Chapter One**

Dean dramatically clinked his beer against Sam's and spilled a little of the liquid onto his brother's shirt. Sam good naturedly laughed and brushed at the liquid on his shirt. Dean didn't notice he was too busy tiling back into his seat; his beer still raised. "To Sam. A friggen' brilliant kid with a brilliant future. I mean a full ride to Stanford." He grinned wide. "You should have been the valet-victorian, Runt."

"Okay." Sam gave a loud laugh. "So many things wrong with that. Susan didn't help park people's cars for them. She gave a speech. It's valedictorian you doof. And I am _not_ a runt. I'm taller than you jerk."

"Still a dumb speech, bitch. You could have done better." Dean sputtered in disgust. Obviously he was very drunk, because he would have gotten a little over sensitive about Sam's blatant comment about his height, or lack of compared to Sam.

Sam had been offered the position of valedictorian but he hadn't wanted it as bad as Susan. Poor Susan was pressured by her family to do amazing in school, he had suggested she take his place. She hadn't said it in so many words, but she'd thanked him once when she borrowed a pen. There had been a deeper look that had implied the appreciation. "I think Susan did an awesome job. Besides, she's smarter than me. I was happy when she got asked."

"Whatever." Dean slurred.

Sam rolled his eyes and glanced over at his father, still nursing his beer. Dean was toasted, and Bobby had stepped away for a while to read up and get some information for a hunter. His father was still working on beer number one, taking tentative sips. Every now and again he would toss a concerned glance at his oldest son. It had been a while, and John was having more good days than bad. For the most part he'd been able to get off of the stuff; save a holiday or a special event. Withdrawals had been awful. Both he and the boys suffered through them, and he tried to be gone on some of the worst days. Now he was a year sober and very reluctant to start on the stuff again. He didn't want to spiral down again. Neither did he want his boys to do so.

Today was special though. His youngest graduated top of the class, was going to an amazing school, and not spending a penny for his education. He was determined to enjoy himself, but keep today about his boy and not about his own drunken antics.

"He's right. No matter how many times I say it, it's always going to be true. I'm damn proud of you, boy. So proud." He fingered the label he was in the process of peeling back. "It wasn't originally what I had in mind, but I'm proud of you none the less. You're doing you."

Sam's eyes watered. Despite returning and warming up to his boys his 8th grade year, he still held on to that word. _Proud_. He held on tightly to that word and it still didn't come out as easily. It just meant so much more though whenever his father said it.

"I'm visiting you. I know Dean already promises that he'll not give you a second of peace there, but I swear that I'll come by too. You couldn't stop me." His father awkwardly scratched at the back of his head. "And I'll probably be hunting in that radius anytime something pops up. I can't have spooks anywhere near you, boy."

"I'm looking forward to that. The visits I mean." Sam smiled warmly at his father. Both men startled and glanced down at the unconscious Dean, as he broke his gentle snore to give a short snort then returned his steady breathing. Sam's expression darkened. "He could have gone too. I mean not gone to community college. He got plenty of letters, some from schools he hadn't applied to."

The guilt had been palpable. Dean had all these opportunities and instead chose him. Even lost his girlfriend Carmen because of it. She finally was done playing second fiddle against Dean's precious little brother. It happened a year after graduation. After a long distance relationship, him being here and her being in California modeling, he'd finally got the call that he was anticipating. It had been devastating. He'd said he was okay, but Sam knew that he wasn't okay. Dean afterwards invested his time in school, and his family. Sure there had been a few one night stands, but he was still hurting. It had taken a while but he finally accepted it.

"He's just hardwired that way, and that happened before I handed you to him and he rushed out of the house. It happened when we brought you home, told him to say hi to his little brother. Dean took one look at you and he swore to his mother that he'd be a good big brother. Besides he's done well for himself. Yeah it was community but he finished his three years and got a degree. He's now a licensed mechanic and a damn good one at that. I know you may not agree he's also a damn good hunter." John ripped a corner off of the label.

"If he wants too." Sam shrugged. "His choice."

John sighed. "What I am saying is, he did everything because he wanted to do it. You couldn't have made your brother do anything else. Both of my boys are forces of nature. Someone just doesn't tell any of you boys what to do. Even either of you."

"Yeah." Sam chuckled. All the Winchester boys were stubborn; that included his father. "Same for you."

John warmly laughed himself. "Yeah. We all seem to have that same trait. You both are a little too much like your old man."

"I'll say." The two men turned at the sound of Bobby's voice. The old man himself stood in the entrance to the kitchen amusement clearly on his face. Every time John came through he'd always catch them talking quietly in the kitchen about one thing or another. This was just the first time that he'd seen Dean conked out during their little heart to heart. If he were honest it was usually Sam who fell asleep first. "You all are not only stubborn, but annoying." Bobby walked passed the table in favor of the beer in the fridge.

"You finish helping Rufus?" Sam smirked and stared down into his drink. It didn't happen too often, and he wasn't a big fan of drinking, but it was a big day and he didn't want to say no when it had been placed in front of him.

"The obnoxious prick is fine. He needed help identifying some creature or whatnot. Course he also twisted his foot when he was trying to avoid getting bit, but he says that he says that he is perfectly okay." Bobby popped open the bottle with his thumb. "I thought the moron would keep me on the phone forever."

Sam met his father's eyes and rolled his own. Bobby had already admitted to the boys that Rufus and he had a long time friendship with the man beginning with when he had saved Bobby's ass. For some reason the only way those two could spend a second together is if they were silent and with a beer, or griping some vivid offenses back and forth. And yet they were best friends. "Sure, Uncle Bobby. Glad you got off though, thought we'd be stuck with Sir Snore-a-Lot."

"He did drink quite a bit didn't he." Bobby regarded the older boy. He threw his hands up and joined the two at the table. "Whatever, today is not about Sleepy over there, today is about you Harvard. Are you ready for the 7 year commitment."

Sam chuckled and glanced down at his drink. He knew what a great opportunity it was to get a full ride, but it was starting to make him embarrassed. "Yeah. It's something I really want. It's something that shouldn't seem like it would take too much time."

Two years ago the kid had come to them with the hope to be a lawyer. He was ready to make a difference. Bobby and Dean wasn't opposed to the idea, or even thinking the kid would fail, but they had been doubtful. Already he'd come forward saying he was going to be an astronaut, a scientist, an engineer, and so many more careers. Kid could have done all those and more, but his plans kept changing faster than the seasons. Now here the boy was going to one of the best schools for Pre-Law.

"Besides for seven years you can call me anytime, so long as I'm not studying for important exams, and get some info on our friends. Their libraries are huge." Sam laughed at the face Bobby pulled. "Not that you don't have an extensive collection yourself Uncle Bobby. Just in case of emergency."

"Don't worry. I'll call you." John winked at the boy. "You are the best researcher in the room, kid."

Bobby turned to face John. "HEY!"

"Sorry, gotta call it the way I see it." John shrugged.

"Well the way I see it is if you need to know something, you better just settle for running away, because I won't tell you shit!" His tone deepened, but his eyes read amusement.

Sam burst out laughing and didn't stop as the exchange continued.

John smirked. "Who was the one who found out about the Nokken's weakness first."

"That crap was in Norse. The kid found a translator and read through the page before I could. I can't help it if he's freakishly smart." Bobby smirked back at John. "Now I'm really not giving you information. Just try everything until you kill the damn thing. Course I hope it doesn't kill you first."

Sam inhaled a sharp breath and pressed a hand to his chest. "Stop it, I need to breathe."

Bobby smirked at the boy. "I will though. Call you if _I_ need any help as well. However, I don't see too much of that, so I'll have to call for occasional check-ups."

"You guys are getting so sentimental." Sam wiped away tears that had formed during his small bout of laughing. "I'm not even leaving yet. I have some time before I have to pack, and then I'll be back for all the holidays I get off."

"Yeah, it'll just be weird. Without you being around." Bobby choked in a breath, and collected himself. "I mean Dean will be inconsolable. Crying all the time, and he'll dramatically look out the window with a longing glance for his floppy haired brother to return."

Sam shook his head and he only confirmed the floppy hair theory when his hair went in all directions. "Now you're making it sound like a soap opera. Do I have an evil twin in the next episode? I've always wanted one of those."

"I'll see what the producers can fit in." Bobby shrugged.

The dog door popped open and Sam's (because that dog's heart and soul belonged to the kid and visa-versa) dog, Buddy, poked his head through the door. He caught a glimpse of the people around the table and hopped all the way through to join them.

Sam unhanded the alcohol in favor rubbing his dogs ear. He smiled warmly as Buddy's head cocked to the side and almost seem to fit in his large palm. "Hey Buddy. You done scouting the perimeter? You make sure no one was getting to us?"

Buddy wagged his curled tail and gave a loud bark in response.

"Good boy." Sam scooted off his chair to join the dog on the wooden floor. There the boy started giving the dog a good rub down.

Just like the huge 6'4'' kid, the dog was incredibly smart. Not that his previous dog, Fluffy, wasn't smart. (Bobby stalled his thought on that ridiculous name. He was going to be named something vicious, so that if he was going to sic his dog on someone for protection it would be petrifying. _Killer, get him;_ Sounded so much better than, _Fluffy, get him!_ But he had gotten the dog right around the time of the boys visit, and Sam had loved and kissed on the dog so much he responded to Fluffy.) Buddy (because that name was sooo much better) was just so much smarter. Most times it almost seemed like Buddy was an angel sent from above. He knew when to cuddle to make someone feel better, and he was always protecting his boy and his boy's family. Bobby wouldn't have to tell Buddy to make rounds, Buddy made rounds himself to check up on everything.

"He'll miss you too." John said quietly.

"Yeah, I'll miss him. I'll miss waking up here. This place and you guys-" Sam broke off his sentence. They all got it though.

At the age of twelve, Sam had finally gone on his first hunt. John probably would have fought you then on the matter, but the hunt hadn't been safe for a _first hunt_. A killer who had murdered so many when he was alive was torturing people who came across his final resting place. Each death was different, but equally awful, painful, and their death had not been swift. After splitting up to check the plant Sam had been taken by the ghost. It had taken a while, but Dean found his brother in a cooler, no longer shivering. After a few days in the hospital Sam had come to rest up in Bobby's home, only after a discussion about bad parenting between John and Bobby, John thought that his boys would be better off without him. The man left for a year, avoiding other hunters that Bobby sent out to return him home. Sam and Dean had settled in the home, but they had still missed their father. Finally, John had come home, and middle of hunts would come to check on his boys and spend precious time with them. Once Dean had graduated Dean had joined his father on a few of those hunts, only to start going on occasional solo hunts himself.

For six years, Bobby's house had been Sam's home. Sam knew every creak the floor boards made. Sam knew every step to avoid if he wanted to sneak down the stairs. Sam knew all the best hiding places, even though his much bigger body would no longer permit most. Every morning Bobby, Dean, and he (John if he was around) would sit at the table and eat a breakfast they made together. When Sam had gotten off of school, he would usually start dinner so that once Bobby and Dean came home from work they'd have something. Then they would sit around the table and talk some more. Sure it was repetitive but he was going to miss it. He was going to miss going to sleep with Buddy warming his feet. He was going to miss being around his family all the time.

Then again he was excited. For the opportunity, and for the possibilities the future held.

"Yeah, it'll be a change for sure." John stated simply packing so much meaning in those words. _Everything_ would be changing for his youngest.

Buddy sensed the change in his boy's mood and whined nudging his head under the kid's lanky arm, and pressing his wet nose into his boy's side.

"Heyyy- stop it." Sam jumped at the cold nose. "Geeze Buddy." Buddy kept rubbing up against Sam, knocking the kid to his back and eventually settling half of his weight on the kid's chest while he berated the kid's face with kisses. "Buddy! Stop." Sam finally broke into laughter as he tried pushing the dog's persistent face away.

Bobby didn't stop the exchange. Once again the damn dog had picked up on the kid's mood and was helping alleviate the tension. "Maybe he's trying to clean you. You did hopefully take a shower today."

"Not-" Sam finally shoved the dog's weight off of him and wiped at his face with a laugh. "You were not helping." Sam looked down at the dog. Buddy was tongue lolling and tail wagging. As a bout of irony the dog used his puppy eyes against the king of puppy eyes himself. "Ahhh, you're a pest. And I bet, I can beat you once around the house."

Sam lightly swiped at the dog and rushed towards the back door, he opened and closed it quickly before Buddy was off following through the dog door barking playfully after his boy. John and Bobby smirked at the shades swaying after the violent slam. Sam may have grown in physical height and intelligence, but he was still just a big kid. Life would certainly get quieter and lonelier without him being around.

xxxOOOxxx

Sam had so much to prepare for in order to go to school, and yet it seemed like the time went by too quickly. The day that they started packing up Sam's things in the back of Bobby's truck for the 24 hour dive to California was both exciting and heart wrenching. They'd made the drive before. Sam had gotten a tour with his big brother of the school. This time however it was so _final_.

Sam and Dean got into the Impala for the drive, and Bobby and John hopped into Bobby's truck for the drive. Despite it only being a 24 hour drive they'd opted to give themselves plenty of time should an obstacle show itself. They also figured they'd split the trip so that sometime they could stop and rent a room.

The first few hours of the trip Dean remained a little quiet. He didn't even turn on his familiar tunes. It was a lot of things cycling in his mind. His little brother finally wasn't going to be in their room. He wasn't going to hear his brother's soft snore. He wouldn't have Sam around to harass.

Then it was also Carmen. An inkling of guilt bit at him for his ex. Last they'd spoken they had broken up over distance. She had wanted him to visit and he didn't want to. The trip would have been too long and he wasn't prepared to be away from Sam that long. She then had gotten angry. She'd been okay with Sam being his main focus before. It had been sweet and enduring to know that Dean could love so passionately. But now, she was getting a little tired of playing second fiddle to Sam. She wanted to be not the main focus of Dean's life, that would have been too much to ask for. No she just wanted to matter more. She wanted Dean to care about her the way he cared about his little brother. Dean couldn't do that though. Sam would always be number one and anyone else would be just that, someone else. It had been devastating to lose her, but Dean had gotten through it well enough.

Making the drive to California, _again_ , Dean couldn't help but have that little bit of guilt nag at him. He hoped that Carmen wasn't someone he ran into on the way to California.

Sam watched the expression his brother wore and frowned himself. He hated it whenever his brother retreated into himself. Dean didn't discuss his feelings. Dean was a man, not a Disney princess. Sam allowed it for a little while until he finally wasn't okay with it. While Dean stopped at a station for some gas and snacks, Sam snuck out his brother's box of cassette tapes. When Dean started the car again Blue Oyster Cult started blasting Sam had popped in the Blue Oyster Cult cassette that Dean broke into a grin. "Don't fear the reaper! Sammy, you have some awesome taste."

"Runs in the blood." Sammy shrugged.

Up until the motel, it was bad karaoke, and a lot of indignant words thrown back and forth. At one point Sam smeared some of the powdered cheese on the dash, and a slap fight occurred not even causing Dean to swerve around.

It took Dean a little to fall asleep at the motel, but Sam found it difficult. He kept listening to his brother breath in soft breaths as he slept. Maybe it was just him being melodramatic, but he knew he'd miss hearing his big brother's steady breaths. He would miss his brother's crazy antics, and his brother's doting. It would be weird getting off of school and seeing him ever.

"Quit thinking runt." Dean moaned from the other bed.

"What?" Sam jumped a little in surprise at his brother's voice.

Dean moaned again. "I will miss you too. But we have to get there first. For that we need sleep, and I can't sleep properly with your gears turning so stop."

Sam chuckled and shifted to his other side. "Sorry."

"G' Night sasquatch." Dean muttered.

The following morning Dean got up first and kicked Sam's bed to wake him up. After showering they ate a quick breakfast they filed into their cars and headed on the highway again. Once again Sam made sure the drive was light hearted.

By the time the boys had arrived at the campus, Dean directed his car informing Sam he didn't need any help to the dorms they'd seen when Sam had gone for a visit. And Dean hadn't lied. He was fantastic with directions. Came with all the driving he did when he hunted.

Bobby, for once, had beaten them. When the boys had driven up, he had shut off his truck and both him and their father shuffled out of the truck closing the doors. From there it hadn't taken too long. They checked Sam in, gotten his room, and put the few things he had brought upstairs. It was all too soon when they had everything in its place and they were finished. After a quick meal that they stood in front of the building having an awkward time of saying their goodbyes.

Dean was the last one to hug his brother.

"I promise. I'm visiting every chance I get." Dean stated his words muffled by Sam's shirt collar.

Sam choked in a breath, but didn't tear up. He promised he wouldn't. He was going to miss Dean. They had never lived apart. "You better."

 **(If you have reached the end of this chapter and maybe didn't hate it then please drop me a PM or leave me a comment. I am up to some concepts if you would like to throw them out. I am willing to put them into consideration. Who knows maybe your idea fits into my little written out plan. Even post some critiques. Lord knows I am not a perfect creature and sometimes things just don't go as planned. Last story I would reread a few chapters I had posted and found a horribly phrased sentence, or a paragraph that was a huge ole mess. Sometimes even though I read and reread these things over and over again before posting, they slip through. So please help me clean up my stories. I won't get my feelings hurt I promise.)**


	2. Chapter Two

**(Thank you so much for the two reviews lenail125 and EmilyAnnMcGarrett-Winchester, and the trust I got with the followers. I know the first chapter was a little dry, but it's only going up from here.)**

 **Chapter Two**

At first it had been hard. Sam went a month without seeing his family. But he settled into the busy college life quite well. Dean always called though. Asked if there were any hot girls on campus, if he had gotten any of their numbers. How many bars he'd snuck into with a fake ID. When Sam predictably told his brother _none_ , Dean would sigh dramatically. "You're doing college wrong." Big brother would feign disappointment, and little brother would laugh. "No, I'm doing it smart."

All of them were good on their word. Dean of course visited whenever he was nearby, or even when he wasn't just to visit. He would usually buy food and make Sam eat. He knew when Sam got focused on something he didn't stop to nourish his body, even if the scholarship covered food costs. Bobby didn't visit, but Sam got calls and saw him whenever he came back home during vacation. Their father visited, a lot less frequently than Dean. It was usually awkward, and he wasn't sure what to say, but Sam was happy his father made the effort.

Beginning of his second quarter Dean had already up there once when Sam had gotten another call from his big brother, saying that he was on a job nearby. He might as well stop by and see him when he was all finished. Sam hadn't been expecting him the next day however. After a persistent knock on his dorm door, and a few yells of _go away_ from him. Sam finally looked up from his books and scooted his seat out from beneath the desk.

"I swear!" Sam groaned as he took long strides to the door. "If you have forgotten your key, _again_ , Brady I will shove the key-" Sam startled when he unlocked and opened the door. Rather than Brady was it his brother.

Dean grinned wide at his brother. "Where are you planning on sticking your roommate's key?"

"Dean!" Sam threw the door open wider and pulled his brother into a hug. "Man I though you said you'd be here when you were all wrapped up."

"I am." Dean smirked. "I have to tell you about it over some burgers."

Sam groaned. "Seriously. You probably had some yesterday. Besides I'm not really hungry right now, we can hang out-"

"Okay, one. I did have a bacon cheese burger yesterday and it was delicious, but one does not worry about having it a second day. Burgers are awesome and should be revered as such. Two. You, runt, are way too skinny. Probably from all those gross salads. I'm sticking something more than lettuce in you whether I have to drag you to my car or not." Dean's look didn't allow for argument.

"Fine…" Sam snatched up his wallet and tucked it in his pants. He left his books on the desk, but carefully stacked the pages and stuck them in the pages of a book. Last Sam pocketed his key ring. "Burgers it is."

They carried on polite conversation about Bobby and their father as they went down the elevator, but once Sam reached for the door handle on Dean's Baby Sam paused. "Hey you think you can take me to one of the offices really quick. I just have to turn something in to a professor and I can run in and give it to him."

Dean rolled his eyes and got into the car turning up his music as it blasted once the keys fit in the ignition. "Fine, College Boy. Make it quick."

Sam gave the car a little pat before going back into the building. Once he made it into the main room he glanced at the stairs wondering if they would be quicker, just as the elevator came back down. As fate would have it he would take the elevator. He waited patiently for people to exit and stuck a foot in the door before it could shut so he could fit in as well.

"Wait! Hold it please" A young woman was running towards the elevator pressing a purse to her side so it would bounce.

Once again Sam stuck a foot in the door and they bounced back outward. He put his foot back in once the blond had made it inside.

"Thank you." She expressed a little winded.

"No problem." Sam shrugged as he instinctively watched the numbers go up as the elevator rose.

Sam frowned when he felt the woman's eyes on him. He glanced down and offered her an awkward smile. Being tall sucked sometimes. Reaching upper shelves were awesome, and seeing over crowds was a god-send. However, he hit his head on a lot of things, and always got stares. Especially in elevators. In elevators he looked like the Green Giant. At least that's what his brother always told him.

One second the elevator was rising, and the next there was a jostle.

The unexpected shift in the elevator was violent and threw Sam into the wall jamming his side in a bruising blow against the jutted out hand hold. Sam went to brace himself but stopped and threw out his arms to catch the blond falling towards him. Before the woman could crack her head on the wall Sam had her wrapped in his arms in a crushing hold. Sam resettled his right arm around her waist and shot out his left arm to grip the holds. He used every ounce of his strength and will to absorb the vibrations jostling them.

It didn't need to be said what was happening. They lived in Palo Alto, _California_. It was an earthquake. Some were good and some were bad. This one was just a little worse than usual. While Sam balanced them, the woman shot out her own hand to press all of the levels on the elevator. Press them all the door opens at the nearest floor and you can get out. It was a sound theory. Only before she was able to press anything there was one final jerk and the elevator whirred to a stop. As if to finalize the situation the lights killed, leaving only the eerie red emergency lights.

The shock took a while to absorb, but the woman was the first to take a breath and say something. "We're between levels 3 and 4." She didn't move from the position against Sam when he released her from his arms. "At least I think we are."

"Sounds about right." He recalled the numbers he'd last seen and he would have come to the same conclusion. "My guess is something blew out. Especially here and elevator should withstand something like that. Once they fix- whatever it is- they should get us out." Despite his calm exterior Sam jammed the emergency button a little. The light was just dim enough to make the situation creepy, and the chance of the elevator falling (though slim) frightened him. "I could always-"

He was mid-way reaching for the trap door on the ceiling when she stopped him. "Lets leave that for worst case. Like you said someone will come check." She wrinkled her nose at a thought, and the word cute inexplicably popped into Sam's head at that singular action. "Although you certainly are tall enough to reach it Paul Bunyan."

Sam usually hated quips on his height but to the blond he just grinned. "Even had the giant ax and blue ox." His grin wiped off. Damn it. Dean would throttle him. Nothing worse that _lame_ flirting.

The girl laughed however as she lowered herself to the ground using the hand holds. "You'll have to show me sometime." She shot out an arm to wrestle her purse back to her and dug through until she found her phone. A sharp curse followed when she pressed a button on the device and it lit up her face.

"No service?" Sam guessed.

"No." She jammed the phone back in. "This building always has crappy service. You have to step out to make a call."

"Don't worry. My brother is a worry-wart. He came by to visit me, and is expecting me to take five to run up and grab something. When I don't show up again, he'll come around and investigate. Especially if he felt half of what we did." He gave a grunt as he used the hand rail to lower himself down as well.

"You okay, Sam?" The woman's eyebrow shot up at the sound of his discomfort.

"Yeah I'm fine. I banged against the railing but it's just a bruise. I've had-" Sam paused. "Wait, how do you know my name?"

The woman froze, and hastily tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Well it's a small campus."

"It's a huge campus." Sam countered. "Do we have a class together?"

"Uh, yeah. Professor Cantu. It's large, but I sit in the back, and you usually sit somewhere in the middle. You're so tall it's easy to spot you." Sam wasn't sure if it was the red lighting, but she started to go a little flush.

"Oh, uh. Yeah." Sam rubbed a spot at the back of his head. "I'm sorry, I've never seen you."

"You really don't see anyone but the professor." She found her purse more interesting. "I mean you're always studying. Even in the library you're stuck in books doing homework, writing essays."

Sam shrugged, a little shocked by the attention. Sure he got noticed by pure height. People would always joke he must have played basketball in high school, when he hadn't. He even sucked when his gym class had played for the week. This kind of attention was something new. It almost sounded like she was purposefully paying attention to him. He studied her while she fumbled with her purse. She was pretty. Too pretty. She was way to pretty to pay any attention to him. Maybe Dean's league but not his.

"I have a scholarship to maintain. No good grades, no school."

She nodded. "I know what you mean. My father's helping, but without the scholarship he couldn't afford this place."

Sam nodded back at her. "So I'm kind of at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I don't know yours."

The woman dropped her purse and wrung at her hands. "Well, yeah, that's not really fair is it. I mean I obviously know who you are-" She squeezed her eyes shut and froze. Sam recognized the motion. It was what he would do every failed flirting attempt. "I mean, not obviously. It's not like I was watching you _all_ the time. Just when we were in the library together, or in class, or- my names Jessica."

Sam waited for her to open her eyes again and thrust out a hand. She collected herself to accept it and shake. "Well it's nice to meet you Jessica. Officially I mean." When his hand went back into his own possession, he leaned his head up against the wall. "Although this is a crappy way to meet."

"I don't know…" Jessica threw her head back too with a smirk. "It could be worse. We could be trapped in Professor Cantu's class for 12 hours."

Sam gave a warm chuckle. "I take it you aren't a big fan of math."

"Or, professors with very dull tones." She squinted her eyes and finally noticed an offensive drawing of male parts on the ceiling. Funny what being trapped in an elevator would uncover. "I mean he sounds like the teacher from Ferris Buellers Day Off."

"He kind of does, but he's a nice guy." Sam lowered his head and regarded the woman. He read pure amusement on her face as he listened to him. "But- that makes me a-"

"A nerd." She laughed. "Uh, yeah. But I knew that. My friends kept telling me that you were a huge nerd."

Sam's eyebrows shot up. "You talked to your friends about me?"

Her flush returned. "Uhhh- yeah. I mean it wasn't all the time, just when we were in the same room, and they saw me staring. And- and I am totally coming off as stalker material, aren't I?"

Sam laughed. "I would be lying if I didn't say yes, but-" He met her eyes. "I'm kind of flattered. I'm starting to think that maybe meeting afterwards at let's say if we were to meet up for some coffee I wouldn't be opposed to the idea."

Her expression became serious and she bit at her lip. "I would not be opposed to that idea either. In fact, if you aren't spending time with your brother tomorrow morning then I would love to get some coffee with you tomorrow."

"Even if he was, he wouldn't mind." Sam shrugged. "Then we could talk in a less-" He tugged at his collar as he registered the heat accumulating in the elevator. "-stifling environment."

Jess glanced at the closed doors. "Think their figuring out how to get us out?"

An image of Dean yelling at anyone who could hear him, while technicians sat over a comedic tall pile of wires and hardware fumbling franticly came to mind. "My brother is a professional mother hen. Complete with fretting and sobbing if anything were to go wrong. I bet he's yelling at everyone right now, so yeah, someone's on it."

"That protective?" Jess shot up an eyebrow.

"It's kind of a long story." Sam rubbed at the back of his head. "I mean- a very long story."

Jess shrugged and pointed to their surroundings. "I have the time."

He told Jess about his mother dying, about his brother always watching over him while his father traveled as he _sold things a salesman_ (He wasn't going to say anything about the hunting). Then he got hurt, bad, while in one of the towns. His father was drunk and out of it and didn't act properly. When they went to stay with a friend while he recovered he ended up staying permanently, after a misunderstanding. It took a little while but their father came back and they were a family. Dean remained a constant mother figure through everything. Jess injected questions every so often but for the most part she stayed riveted to his story and wondered what he wasn't mentioning.

"He sounds nice." Jess smiled.

"He'll try to portray himself as anything else, but yeah he's pretty nice." Sam chuckled. "Used to cut the crusts off my sandwiches."

"Aww." Jessica smirked and put a hand to her mouth. "That is way too adorable."

"What about you?" Sam smirked at her shocked expression. "I mean I just blurted my life story to you. So what about yours?"

"Well, here's the story of a lovely lady who was bringing up three very lovely girls-" She smirked back at him when she realized the question.

Sam laughed. "No, seriously."

"Seriously." She brought her hands up in a defensive manor. "I was one of three. Middle child. All very blond pig-tailed, adorable dressed girls. And I loved it. My dad was Air Force, so like you it was a new town, new home, new school."

Sam nodded but didn't correct her in her assumption that the Winchester's definition of _move_ was the same.

"Never really made friends with people. Then he retired, and we ended up in sunny California. I was about 16 when he retired. Mom was a nurse and she had quit to raise my sisters and I. She started working again once we settled in California." She looked up at the ceiling again. "I wanted to get into medicine like my mother so I worked my tail off in school, and here I am pre-med."

"Nice."

Jess got a little embarrassed. "Kinda boring."

"Nah, boring is pretty nice." Sam thunked his head back to the wall again. "You don't know how much I wanted the _Brady Bunch_ and not _Young and the Restless_."

Jess studied Sam's expression. He wasn't lying, he'd only given her the cliff notes version of his life. Of course she wasn't going to ask for an expansion on the story now, that would have to be saved for later. He'd gone through a lot. Maybe that was what she liked about him so much. He always had this sad expression. Always stuck to himself. On some level she could understand, and she wanted to break that barrier and meet the real Sam. "I don't know every detail, but I do know that not everything is perfect with normal. Before I went to school, mom got diagnosed with breast cancer. She's still fighting. Getting treatment, and I call to check up on her often."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Point is, that life isn't perfect for anyone. Yeah, maybe someone has it better, but then something comes along to derail it. My mom always says, life doesn't throw things at you, you cannot handle." Jess stated sagely.

Sam had been told that many times before. The phrase was beginning to stretch him a little thin. "Yeah I've heard that. Doesn't make it any better."

Jess laughed. "That's what I tell my mother, then she tells me that I need to suck it up and deal with it. That life doesn't get any easier. I need to fight and push for the surface, or drown in my sorrows."

"She sounds like a walking philosopher." Sam chuckled.

"Oh she is. She has a phrase for everything."

Jess opened her mouth to say something else when the lights flickered back on with a whir. Sam stood defensively knowing that flickering lights could mean many things, and it was better to be prepared for whatever was going to happen. Rather than Jessica's eyes going black, or a sudden chill in the compartment, the elevator jostled again and started to move down. It was very sluggish but Sam inhaled in relief. He didn't have an aversion to tight spaces, but it had been getting a little too snug. The numbering on the elevator didn't show, and Sam wasn't sure what level they would stop at. Being a sluggish speed, Sam couldn't rely on his knowledge of how long it took to reach each level. He started to wonder where it would stop.

The elevator shuddered to a stop and they didn't open. There was a scratching and a bang from the thick door. The door started to widen inch by inch until Sam recognized a crowbar being wedged between them. The grunt of the effort was all too familiar.

"Sammy." The name was spoke loud and strained. "You better be in there."

"Sir we can-" As the door opened more Sam recognized the maintenance staff behind his brother trying to take over the situation. Surprise, surprise, Dean wasn't biting.

Dean's voice held a lot of irritation, but Sam sensed a level of panic that he had been unable to smoother. "I can do it."

"Dean-" Sam said loud enough to inform his brother that he was in fact there and okay. He added his own hands into the crevice and helped pull apart the doors with a grunt. Once they were about halfway there the springs did their job and the doors jolted apart.

Dean collected himself and tugged Sam through the doors pulling his brother in a hug. "Jesus. You said five freakin' minutes Sam. Not _hang on and let me get trapped in the freakin' elevator._ Seriously, whatever perfume your wearing princess stop, it's attracting trouble again."

"I get it." Sam squirmed in Dean's hold. "I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting that." Sam glanced around and noticed they were in the basement. The ground was scattered with tools, and a panel next to the elevator was opened wide with wires halfway tugged out. Dean himself had shrugged out of his leather, and was now sweat stained and grease stained.

His brother finally released him and started tugging on his shirt. "You hurt anywhere?"

"No, I'm fine- Dean. Seriously Dean- I'm-" Sam tried swiping at the hands triaging but Dean won out. Sam's head swiveled around and he finally noticed that Jessica had stepped out of the elevator and was now watching the pair with a wide smile. He flushed and fought harder. "Dean- I'm fine. I just got a-"

"A bruise." Dean breathed. He grabbed Sam's head and turned it in all directions checking for bruising or any blood. Last he looked into his brother's eyes and gauged that there was no sign of sluggishness. "And no concussion."

The maintenance crew went around the scene, set to check up the elevator and have it running perfectly again.

Finally, Sam was able to shove away his brother. "Let me go Dean. It was an elevator, not an alligator."

Dean frowned and looked like he was going to retort, but he stalled when he finally spotted Jessica. His eyebrows shot up and he gave her a suave smile. "And you were trapped in there; with her?"

"Yes." Sam shook his head at his brother and the suave smile dripped away, leaving a snarky one.

Sam had been trapped in the elevator with the hot blond, and he was into her. Sam was invoking his right to stop whatever moves his brother was planning on playing. He had called dibbs. His brother rarely did that, and Dean would let his brother have this one college girl.

Sam continued after clearing his throat to drive the concept further. "This is Jessica. She's in one of my classes."

"Uh, it's nice to meet you." Jess stuck out a hand and nodded towards the panel. "Did you-?"

"Fix it? Yeah, it was simple." Dean shrugged and shook her hand.

"Thanks. For that. That's amazing," Jess kept her smile polite.

Dean shrugged. "Nah, machines are easy. Sammy is the one with all the book smarts. Kids a freakin' genius."

"Yeah, he's like scary smart." Jessica flushed. She clenched the strap of her purse. "Well, I uh got some things to do, but tomorrow?"

"Um, yeah. You wanna say about eight?" Sam gave an awkward grin and rubbed at the back of his head, painfully aware his brother was in the room and his grin was wide. Dean always made things awkward, he tried not to bring his girlfriends over when he was in high school.

She responded instantly. "Yeah, we can walk over to the coffee shop. I can meet you outside the dorms."

"That sounds fantastic." Sam wanted to slap his brother. Now the giant kid was making kissy sounds. "Um, I'll see you later then."

"Yeah," She seemed more amused by Dean's commentary than anything else. "See you later."

She started up the stairs that would take her to the first floor. Sam followed her with his eyes about halfway and turned to smack his brother hard in the chest. "Geeze, you can't stop being you for a minute? I mean, seriously." Sam's face went bright red.

"Awwww, come on Sammy." Dean smacked his hand down hard on his shoulder. "It's not every day I see my brother playing the field. Although you are rusty kid. I'll have to give you some big brother tips, then maybe you can burst that cherry of yours."

"Deeeean." Sam whined, reverting back to his much younger self. "You're gross." Sam started towards the stairs not giving his brother any time to collect his things.

Dean chuckled and reached down for his coat and keys. "Hey, it's nature. Besides what else is Dean Jr. good for?"

Sam tossed up his hands and gave a loud huff. "Don't name it, jerk!"

"I don't the ladies do, bitch." Dean laughed as he followed his brother out of the warm room.

He'd been in a panic when the earthquake had shaken his car, but he'd given his little brother a few minutes to collect himself and head back out to say that everything was okay. After five minutes, Dean knew something had been wrong. Inside people had been sitting up from where they had fallen, and his brother was nowhere. When he'd been on auto-pilot and tried to call the elevator down, it hadn't moved. And Dean knew then his kid brother was trapped. For an hour he'd raised hell getting someone over to work on it, then crouching down and working on it himself when they weren't getting it done quick enough. Now that his kid brother was okay, he could breath. Everything was okay.

Hell everything was better than okay. Maybe now his brother would start doing some actual fun college stuff, now that he had a potential hot girlfriend.

 **(Hey, you reached the end? Why not leave a review. I like those. Or you can even PM me. As I have mentioned before please give mention any mistakes potentially made, help me clean up my stories. I read through these things like crazy, but I miss some things and it irritates me to go back through and find them AFTER I've posted. If you have any ideas you can leave it in the review or PM me. I have a clear idea for this one, but maybe whatever you got will fit in.)**


	3. Chapter Three

**(A/N- I plan on posting the chapters once every week. Sorry if this one took a little longer. I have about 8 chapters written out but for some reason 3 was just missing something. I didn't want to post it unfinished. Sooo, here it is now. Before I start let me thank EmilyAnnMcGarrett-Winchester, lenail125, and Izech216.)**

 **Chapter Three**

"No." Sam stated firmly. He whirled around on his brother and threw him one of his iconic bitch faces. "I don't know why Dean even brought it up, but no. I'm not inviting you to Thanksgiving. If you want, we can have our own here."

Jess pulled a far superior bitch face to compete. "And why is that, Sam?" She stamped her foot down. "Are you embarrassed by me? Do you not want me to meet your family?"

"They aren't family. They're all good friends of Bobby's."

Sam had been dating Jess now for a year. It had been pretty awesome. The only thing was she kept pressing the matter of wanting to know what he wasn't saying. She didn't say it in so many words, but when she coyly would bring up his past, Sam knew what she was trying at. She only got angry when he tried to dance around a subject. Sam knew it stemmed from concern. She didn't want him to be afraid to admit things to him, but this was one thing he couldn't just openly admit.

Dean had come by to visit, and with Thanksgiving a few days away he had brought up Bobby's annual celebration. Every year at Thanksgiving Bobby would host a meal at his place. He invited any hunter who was in the area and usually they would show. Good comforting home cooked meals were hard to come by in that business and they didn't turn it down. Only problem was Jessica had heard and asked if she could join. Her parents were going to visit her older sister and she'd be alone that Thanksgiving.

"Sam, anyone invited over to Thanksgiving is as good as family. And besides your father, and your uncle will be there. I would love to meet them." Jessica smiled and slid her hand into Sam's. "Didn't you say it was about time that I met the rest of your family?"

"Yes but-" She would hear about all the horror stories about the previous hunts. That's all Thanksgiving was anyways, just a perverse show of muscle. One hunter boasting about his hunt to another hunter. She'd get frightened and run. "All they do is talk about hunting game. That's what Bobby's friends do. They hunt _everything_. I would enjoy it myself if we could just have a quiet Thanksgiving to ourselves. I'd even make the turkey."

Jess didn't let it go. "My dad hunts, and I've seen enough deer heads pinned to the walls in lodges and his friend's homes. I can handle a few stories about hunting."

Sam sighed and rubbed a hand across his forehead. "It's not the same."

"How is it not the same?" Her eyebrow curved upward. "Please tell me."

Sam looked to Dean for help but Dean shrugged. A while ago he'd insisted that Sam give Jessica the talk. The monsters-are-real talk. Sam had violently disagreed. But Dean had held strong. You couldn't be in a relationship based on lies. And Jess was a great girl, but if she couldn't handle that knowledge or didn't stick around afterwards, then she probably didn't need to be in his life.

"Jessica, it's- please don't-" He rubbed at his face.

"It's got to do with your past." Jess scowled. "I know your dad didn't sell things. Every time I ask you change the story. He sold vacuum cleaners. He sold insurance. You cannot get that story correct. I love you, Sam. Unless your dad is a serial killer with a pile of bodies following him, I don't care."

Sam looked to Dean and Dean raised his hands in surrender. This wasn't his battle. This was Sam's.

"You don't want to know, Jessica." Sam insisted. "Really you don't. I want to tell you but, you would think I was insane."

"Look, Winchester." Jessica pressed her finger into his chest. "I love you. Whatever you'd say I wouldn't think it was crazy."

Sam ran a hand through his hair. He didn't want to. This would test everything. He didn't know what to expect when he would enter the crazy discussion of the supernatural with his girlfriend. Between Dean and his girlfriend, he really didn't have a choice. Either he lost his girlfriend because she felt he didn't trust her, or he'd lose her because she thought he was crazy. He wasn't sure which one was worse. "Dean, can you…"

Dean stood up from the desk chair and smirked at his brother. "Call me if you need backup."

Sam shifted on the bed and turned his body to face his girlfriend. He didn't start until Dean had closed the door and left. "I do love you, Jessica." He rubbed her knuckles softly. "And your right, I've been lying a lot about my past. My dad didn't sell things, but we did move around a lot. If I tell you this, you have to hear me out. To the end. You can decide what you want to do in the end."

Jess nodded. She was getting a little worried. Sam was getting a little melodramatic.

"My mother died when I was 6 months old. My dad heard her scream. He ran up the stairs to my crib, but by the time he'd gotten there she wasn't there. He looked up and she was pinned to the ceiling." Sam didn't miss the look of horror on his girlfriend's face. "Then fire shot out from around her body. We barely got out of the house. From there my dad learned that humans weren't alone in this world. That things that went bump in the night weren't just stories."

"Thing that go bump? You mean like- like vampires?" Sam was right. It was starting to sound a little crazy.

Sam sighed and shifted. "Yes. Ghosts, werewolves, vampires, and demons. Crazy as it sounds, are all very real. You know that death that can't be explained. Some guy in the middle of the city mauled by wild animals and left in an alley, missing a heart. Werewolf. Or loving husband one day goes crazy on his wife, and it's all on camera, only he was also recorded at the bar that same exact night, same time." Sam paused. "And no he doesn't have a twin; shapeshifter. My dad travels from town to town and hunts down those creatures that would otherwise come after someone else. Dean does it too. When he's not under a car or woman, he's usually hunting."

"Have you- have you hunted?" She asked a little too slowly. "Have you seen these _things_?"

"Yes. I've gone on two hunts, but I decided a long time ago that's not what I wanted." Sam sighed and wrapped his fingers around hers. "That's another discussion though."

To be fair Jessica hadn't run away yet. She hadn't called him crazy or thrown something at him and ran off. He hadn't expected something like this to go over so well. "Why isn't this a well-known thing? I mean monsters running around killing people, you would think that would make front page news."

Sam shrugged. "People don't want to see it. They want to live in ignorance, or they just try to find _normal_ reasons that make sense. And it does make front page news, it just so happens that the newspapers that usually get it right-"

"Are made fun of." Jessica said softly. "You mean like those my-wife-gave-birth-to-an-alien newspapers?"

"Yeah, although, most of those stories are crazy. You have to shift through a few of them and read in-between the lines to find a case."

"So after your mom died, your dad dragged you and your brother around to hunt monsters. You're not just fooling with me, are you Winchester?"

"Look I want to keep you around, last thing I'd want to do is give you some crazy story to chase you away." Sam rubbed at the back of his head and looked down awkwardly. "And it is quite a crazy story, if you were to run. I wouldn't-"

Jessica shot a hand out and palmed his cheek. "Hey, I'm not running. I'm just a little confused, and angry." Sam got a confused expression himself. "I want you to trust me. I want to know that you feel like you can talk to me. I'm happy you've told me now but we've been dancing around this for a long time now. And I know it sounds a little out there, but I know you and it took a lot for you to tell me anything."

"You believe me?" Sam sounded shocked. He didn't think she'd still be there.

"I _trust_ you. I cannot stand here and for sure say that everything your saying is a load of crazy. Hell, I don't want to know about this other world. It seems much safer to assume that everything is- well normal. But, I get it. I can see where some stories could have something more behind it. In fact, there's just too much in this world that isn't defined." Jessica's fingers brushed away Sam's bangs. She ignored the stress sweat that had accumulated on his forehead.

Sam frowned. "How are you so okay with this?"

Jessica grinned wide. "Because I love you. And because you have awesome hair." She ran her hands through his soft hair and started to play with the tips of his ears. "And because we have really awesome study sessions."

Sam matched her grin. "Ms. Moore. I'm a gentleman."

There was a bang on the door. "Don't start this now." Dean's muffled voice came through the wood. "I'm starving and we were going to go out and eat."

Sam moved around Jess to call to his brother but she caught his mouth with her own and once she let him go he was breathless. Sam was unable to respond so Jessica did for him. "Why don't you go pick us up something Dean. Something about an hour or two away?"

From the other side of the door Dean could hear the sounds getting more intense inside. So the discussion had gone well, it would have seemed. And for once in his life, he was the third wheel. Usually it was Sam standing awkwardly trying to find things to occupy himself while Dean was with a girl.

"Seriously." He gave one last look at the door before he threw up his hands and walked away keys in hand.

xxxOOOxxx

They'd done the Thanksgiving thing and surprisingly everything went over well. In fact, she'd been over for a Christmas, and joined Sam on a few of the occasional trips he would take to visit his family. Sam even went to go visit her family, and they quickly liked him. Despite keeping his past from her family.

It had been a few years since he'd admitted his past to Jessica. And his past hadn't stalled anything. In fact, telling the truth had solidified practically everything. Of course he had spilled a little later about the demon's interest in him, his family, and the other children. She was a little afraid, but she was supportive. Sam was a fantastic guy, and you didn't run into guys like those. So he had a few literal demons, she'd deal with it. It had taken her a little while to accept everything. And Sam got it. It was hard to swallow that everything in horror stories lived and breathed. If he hadn't grown up in that life, he wouldn't believe it either.

Dean was surprised. Everything was going so well for his brother. Maybe he could share in that happiness. Maybe he could have a girl, and she would understand everything. Problem was after Carmen, there wasn't another girl who hadn't peaked his interest. Sure there were plenty of girls who he was willing to test drive, but he never had a real connection with them.

He'd been working a job in Ohio with his father, and stopped to get a drink at one of the bars. He figured he'd hustle some pool, find a girl, and take her back to his motel, only it hadn't worked out that way. She was at the bar, and alone hunched tiredly over a drink. She was all to certain a student at Ohio State, that was if her hoodie hadn't been lying. Usually the women he'd go for posed themselves on stools and wore tight clothing to get his attention, however there was just something about her, that he had forgotten all about hustling and gone straight for smoozing.

"Get you a drink?" He offered smoothly as he took a stool next to her.

She threw him a casual glance and smirked. "So long as you don't expect anything."

"Just a drink." Dean shrugged. "What harm can come from that?"

"Sweetheart, I am a journalism student." She scoffed. "I've not only heard enough horror stories, I've written a few myself."

Dean didn't get deterred though. He noticed her eyes roving over all he had to offer. She wanted him, just as much as he wanted her. "Then I won't get you a drink." He waited until the Bartender got away from a large group and ordered a beer. He grinned as the bartender walked away to grab a bottle. "So you are in journalism? At Ohio State?" She made a face when he pegged her school. "Not creeping on you or anything, you are kind of wearing the logo on your hoodie."

She tugged the hoodie down. "Oh, I am." She smoothed down the logo before turning her attention to Dean again. "Where did you go?" She questioned, taking a sip from her drink. He tried to figure what it could be.

"South East Technical, community college; you wouldn't have heard of it." Dean shrugged. "Gave me a license to get under people's hoods, though." He looked at her suggestively as he scooped up his beer the bartender had dropped in front of him.

The woman rolled her eyes. "You couldn't come up with anything better?"

Dean shrugged. "I thought it was pretty funny."

"Get me beer and I might think you actually were funny." She coyly shot at him.

"You were afraid of me getting you a drink." Dean pointed out taking a sip. Despite keeping his face neutral, he grinned inwardly. Oh he had her.

It was her turn to shrug. "So long as he opens it in front of me I'm game."

"Sounds like a deal. Except." He positioned himself on his stool so he faced her. "One more problem."

"And what would that be?"

Dean grinned wide. "I don't buy drinks for nameless faces."

The woman regarded him for a few minutes before allowing a smile to come forth. "Cassie. Names Cassie Robinson."

From there he'd gotten her a beer, they had talked and argued about trivial things. Even discussed some of their past, the lighter subjects. By one she was full of alcohol and so was Dean, and they both were willing.

At first it was a one-night stand, Dean didn't expect her to be much else. But he did two surprising things that evening. First he wanted her to stay. Depending on where it was done, the girl or Dean himself would leave. Sure there had been a few clingy ones in the past but then he just felt awkward afterwards. After a wonderful session Cassie moved to slip out of the bed. He put his hand out and took her arm, and asked her to stay. _And she did_. She didn't even need time to consider. She just smiled warmly and slid back into the warm covers and his arms. Second, they snuggled. Dean Winchester cuddled with the girl. Good thing she was in Ohio State for journalism because the press was needed to be called in. Then the following morning he stated a singular word that he dared not utter for any of those other women.

"So, breakfast?"

She'd lifted a brow at the mention but agreed. So the following morning, rumpled clothing and all they found their way to a diner and had a hearty breakfast and conversation. Of course they argued too. It was over small things and big thigs. Who should be president. Foreign policies. The best kind of pie. They argued over everything. And Dean loved it. It got his head going, and _Lil Dean_ stimulated as well.

In between the job, and her classes, they would find time to hang out. John of course was a little angered that his son's time was divided in a hunt, be he allowed it. The kid was twenty-five. He could hardly tell him what to do. Course he still tried.

The hunt ended in a few days. They'd saved a person, and his father was ready to go. Dean wasn't he glanced at his phone and eyed the fuzzy picture of Cassie. "Let me make a call?"

He couldn't stay. He had an important job to do, and a little brother who needed him. He knew that there had been a time when he'd have to tell her just that. The number was dialed easily enough, he memorized it long before he'd put in the phone. "Hey Cassie."

Cassie sounded cautious. "Hey, what's up?"

"You wanna meet up or-"

"Your leaving, aren't you." Cassie caught him.

Dean scowled and rubbed a hand across his chin. "I am finished with my business in town, yes."

"Why are you calling then?" Her voice went ridged over the line. She'd known this was coming. Dean was a free spirit. She'd known what he was the second she'd laid eyes on him. She'd known he'd leave every blissful second of that week.

"I want to come back, whenever possible." Dean scowled he didn't like her tone.

"You do?" He could picture her face looking shocked.

"Yeah. I mean, I want to." He knew he was surprising her. Hell, he was surprising himself. "Do you want me to?"

"I wouldn't be so opposed to the idea." She stated a little coyly.

"I don't know when I'll be back…" Dean stated a little quietly. "My job kind of takes me, everywhere."

Cassie was quiet for a little while. "That's okay. You'll call whenever your around?"

"I can do that." Dean said smirking. "I can even call you just for the fun of it."

xxxOOOxxx

The two walked through the woods and tried to make as little sound as possible. The thing they were hunting had excellent hearing. The woods were lit up partially with the sun filtering through the canopy. It didn't make it any less creepy though. The only thing assuring the two that there wasn't a creature about to pounce was the A typical forest sounds surrounding them.

John glanced at his son and kept his tone low but audible. "So Jessica is a nice girl." He hadn't spoken too much about Jessica since he'd met her that Thanksgiving. Dean figured his father had seen too much of his mother in the woman. He knew is father would take some time to figure out a lot of things.

"Yeah, she's pretty great." Dean smiled wide but kept his attention on the trees surrounding them. "She's fearless, knows about everything and still hasn't run away from the kid. In fact, I couldn't enter the room for a good two hours after he'd told her."

"I don't want to know what they were doing…" John interrupted his son before he could continue.

Dean smirked. "So you already know."

"I know what they were doing, Dean. I didn't need you to imply anything." He turned his head at the sound of a twig snapping to his left. Instead of a creature with claws and sharp teeth all they saw was a startled deer run off away from them. "So who is the girl that you've taken to?"

Dean took on the look of the startled deer. "What?"

"You know, the girl that you met in Ohio. Your still in contact with her right?" John wasn't messing with his son. He kept his focused gaze on the trees ahead. When Dean didn't speak up, John glanced over at his eldest son again. "Well-"

"Well-" Dean stated quietly. "Yes, I am still in contact with Cassie." He shifted his gaze to the right as a bird hopped off a limb and rushed away. So maybe they were a bit jumpy.

John remained quiet for a little while searching out the surrounding area. "So I take it you like her? A lot I mean. She wasn't just a one-night stand."

"Cassie has her good points." Dean stated vaguely. "And she certainly is pretty."

"And you like her."

Dean rolled his eyes. "And I like her. I don't get the big deal though. I've liked other girls before."

"They didn't last very long, and the one that did- well you didn't recover from that very well." John took the time to put a large hand on his son's shoulder. "I'm just happy that you've found someone to care about, that returns the feelings back."

Dean didn't shake off the hand, but didn't respond. He played off the moment by focusing on the trees above him. Why his dad was bringing up a sensitive subject on a hunt he didn't know. Why his dad was bringing up a sensitive subject at all he didn't know either.

"So have you told her?" John finally asked.

"Told her what?" Dean snapped.

John grinned. "About hunting? About everything that we've gone through…"

"Look, focus on hunting old man." He couldn't believe this conversation was still going. Dean tolerated chick flicks moments with his little brother, Sam was an emotional kid, and would enforce that it would happen one way or another. When he was with his dad however, his father hated those moments just like he did. You go to a bar, you drink a beer, and that was it. No sensitive how's your life going crap. Dean narrowed his eyes and glanced at his father peripherally. "Christo."

"Not a demon." John laughed. "Just curious."

"Why?" Dean asked sharply.

John shrugged. "You are so happy. I like that she's making you happy again." Dean despite all the visits, was still missing Sam. It also didn't help that very clearly whenever there was a visit he was the third wheel. Something Dean wasn't used to.

Dean kept his skeptical gaze.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Beer, boobs, cars." John rolled his eyes.

"Thank God, I thought you were someone else for a little while." Dean smirked. Happy the uncomfortable conversation was over. However, now they were finished talking, Dean listened to the sounds around him and stilled. "You hear that?"

John shook his head, then froze. He didn't hear anything. The birds and insects had all retreated, and all sound was gone. "Shit." John cursed and spun gathering his senses as he scanned the woods. It was still quiet though and nothing moved around them.

Dean scanned the area too, and turned when he heard the crunch of leaves. He raised his gun and squeezed of two shots. There was another firm crunch as something hard slumped down. Neither put down their weapons as they slowly stepped forward, tensed and ready in case something chose to jump out at them. Dean saw the carcass of the chupacabra and glanced back at his dad. Sure his dad had his back Dean nudged the animal with his weapon. When it didn't budge he gave the dog-like creature a swift kick.

He didn't move until he was sure the creature's chest wasn't rising. "Dead."

"Good shot, son." John praised as he spotted the two shots, one in the heart, and the other inches away.

"No thanks to you." Dean smirked. "I mean seriously having a heart to heart on a hunt. You broke one of the unbreakable rules."

John scowled. It was hard balancing as a father and a hunter. "Shut up."

 **(A/N- So if you have reached the end then please leave me a review or a PM. I also am up for ideas. As mentioned before maybe what you have in mind, and want to see will fit in. Maybe it won't but you don't know if you don't ask. Also if you notice anything off, spelling, or if I contradict myself don't hesitate to say anything. I try reading through the stories to find anything wrong and sometimes I catch them, right after I post them. So no ill feelings if you point something out.)**


	4. Chapter Four

**(EmilyAnnMcGarrett-Winchester and lenail125 thank you for your reviews.)**

 **Chapter Four**

Sam had gotten the call early in the morning. He rolled over in bed and smashed his hand around for his phone. He muttered sleepily into his girlfriend's hair. "Mmm. That yours or mine?"

"Yours." She muttered back. "It's probably your mother."

"You mean brother right?" Sam propped himself on his elbow and glanced sleepily around for his ringing phone.

"I know." She mumbled. "You know what I meant."

Sam wasn't able to see it but he heard the smile. She meant his big maternal brother. "Yeah, you are soooo funny." He finally sat up in further pursuit of locating his phone. "Where is it?"

"I dunno." She muttered and snuggled deeper into her warm pillow. "Just make it stop."

"Thanks." Sam laughed at her. "You are a lot of help." He finally located the phone lying on the ground next to the bed.

Jess just muttered sleepily, and unintelligible. "Mmmm."

Sure enough on the caller ID it showed a picture Dean had taken of himself on his brother's phone. Dean was flexing. Sam pressed accept. "It's early. You better be bleeding out."

 _"Early?"_ Sam heard Dean scowl. _"How is it early?"_

Sam glanced at the clock. "It's five in the morning, dude. Don't know what time you got."

 _"Please."_ Dean scoffed _. "We used to get up earlier than this. Remember dad's drills."_

"Used to." Sam emphasized. "What is it?"

 _"I can't just call to say hello?"_ Dean laughed from the other line.

Sam wasn't amused. It wasn't a friendly call. His brother wanted, no needed, something. "First off it's early. Second I can tell from your tone that it's not just a checkup. So I ask again, and would prefer an answer. What do you want?"

 _"Okay, okay. You got me. I need some help."_

"Running from cops from a misunderstanding help, or Dad or Bobby being a dick help?" Sam laid his head back on the pillow but kept the phone to his ear.

" _I'll talk to you when I see you._ " Dean held a lot of humor in his tone.

"Look. You remember that conversation we had yesterday. I passed the LSAT with a good score and Jess and I kinda celebrated last night. So yeah, tell me when you get here." Sam held his hand over the end call button.

A deep chuckle echoed in the room and made Sam jump. "Oh, but you see, I already am here."

Sam shot up from his spot in bed and scowled at the shadow of his brother in the doorway. Of course his brother would sneak in through the window. It wasn't the first time. If he hadn't been so partied-out he probably would have heard the obnoxious break in.

"Piss off Dean." Jess scowled from the bed and pulled the sheets up. "You haven't heard of ringing the doorbell?"

"Oh I have." Dean laughed. "But then I wouldn't get such an amusing reaction. Anyways I'm here to talk to your boyfriend so."

"Make him go away Sam." Jessica moaned.

Sam had to laugh himself. He patted his girlfriend's shoulders before shifting off the bed to dangle his legs off the side of the bed. "I got him." Sleep drifted away as year of training as a boy shifted back through his system. He remembered having buckets of water poured over him, if he got out of bed too slow. He learned at an early age to fight off sleep. It usually helped on days with late evenings studying and early mornings with tests. That and coffee.

He put his feet on the ground and caught his balance as he stood up. Once he was okay he tugged on pajama bottoms over his boxers and followed his brother out of the room. "Keep the bed warm for me." He called out before he cleared the doorway and closed the door behind him.

"Mmm…" Jessica called out.

"You guys must have partied out." Dean chuckled, as he took in his slightly groggy brother. "I mean; I haven't seen you this out of it for a while now."

"Brady got a little too excited. Kept ordering shots. He's a little worse off than we are, because at some point we stopped. Whatever. Look, you are not here to congratulate me or to make sure I'm okay from my night of celebration. What's up?" Sam rubbed at his crazy standing up hair and made it worse.

Dean took a seat on the couch once they'd made it to the living room. "Well, I have a kind of weird request."

"Like how weird?" Sam asked cautiously.

"I wouldn't mind a little help on a hunt." Dean said a little quietly. Almost like he couldn't believe it himself.

"Like information help or-"

Dean rubbed a hand on the back of his head. "I need help on the hunt."

"You know I haven't hunted since I was twelve dude. I may be versed on the weapons and the monsters but I'm more like your Oracle than your sidekick." Sam crossed his arms.

"The Oracle is way hotter than you dude." Dean chuckled. He'd read a few Batman comics when he was younger. After Barbara Gordon he'd found redheads highly attractive. "Anyways, Dad gave me a hunt close by. The only problem is it's a woman in white."

Sam laughed. Woman in white. A kind of La Llorona. The stories varied. The story always contained the same variables however. Awful man, dead kids, and suicide by the women. In death they searched for one of two things. Replacement children or terrible cheating men. It didn't matter what she looked for though, both ended up dead.

"Worried your track record will get you killed." Sam laughed again.

"Take this seriously." Dean moaned.

"I am. As seriously as an awful five-o-clock wakeup call will allow me to be." Sam smirked. "I want to help dude, but you know I have that interview."

"I know, I know. You got a whole week until the geek boy, law school interview." Dean nodded. "I paid attention to our last conversation. It was only yesterday. I can have you back by Monday no problem. I just need Mr. Commitment to be there in the case that our Woman in White wants a bite out of me."

"Where's dad?" Sam queued.

"Dad is on a hunt. There were signs off in Florida. Dad's convinced that it's _him_ and told me he and he alone was going." Dean stated his eyes turning towards his hands. "Anyways, Dad's about as bad as I am on the romance front."

"Wait, wait." Sam brought his hands up. " _The Demon_ is potentially in Florida and dad didn't want you or anyone else to join. It's not just his fight, it's everyone's."

Dean nodded and tried to diffuse the situation. "Man, you know dad. He tries to carry the burden himself. He doesn't want the demon getting anywhere near us. Besides, he's been fighting this battle much longer than we have. He carries a certain drive to kill the thing."

"We do too." Sam rubbed at his eyes. "Whatever, his phones probably off and I couldn't give him my complaint if I tried. Yeah, I guess I'll go along. I may be a little rusty."

"That's okay." Dean shrugged. "I just need to have some kind of back up on this one. I really don't think that Constance is going to be a big fan of me and my lifestyle. I even thought about Bobby but-" It was pretty well known between the brothers that Bobby wasn't lacking in action. He had a few casual partners (other female hunters) that would show up every now and again for info, and end up staying the night. Sam was the only one who had a single woman he'd been devoted to. Well the only one with a woman they were devoted to, who was still alive at least.

Sam glanced towards the closed door. "Let me talk to Jessica. I'm assuming you need to head out now."

"Preferably." Dean smirked. "Dude you are so whipped."

"Shuddup." Sam waved his hand dismissively at his brother. Sam padded a little away from his brother and glanced absently towards his shared room before he turned back and looked at his brother. "You sure this is something we need to take care of now? We can't wait another day?"

"Already a few guys have gone missing, only their bloody cars remaining. I would like to go now to save another sucker. Why?" Dean raised an eyebrow. "Is there a reason we shouldn't go now?"

Sam seemed thoughtful, his eyes roving back to the door. "No, no. It's okay. It shouldn't- No, it's fine."

"Sam. If there's something wrong…" Dean hated the look his brother had.

His brother's expression softened. "No, nothing's wrong. Give me a little."

Dean remained on the couch while his brother went into the bedroom.

xxxOOOxxx

"Wait, hang on sweetie." Jess grabbed for her boyfriend's hand as he packed up a few articles of clothing and some of his toiletries. "Just slow down a second and let me absorb all this."

"Look, just be careful and don't allow any strangers in the apartment. Make sure that your safe while I'm gone." Sam met his girlfriend's eyes and rubbed at her knuckles. "You know I worry about you."

"You know I always look out for myself." Jessica dragged down Sam's arm and finally caught his drifting attention. "Look, at me. You're going on a hunt with your brother? You hated hunting, and you only did it twice. The first time, didn't end so well if I can recall."

Sam sat on the bed. "Jess, he's going after a woman in white."

"Yeah."

Sam expanded. "A woman in white is a spirit who in life found out that her spouse was cheating on her, in anger she usually kills her kids, and always commits suicide. She goes after children or cheating men, and she's going after guys in this case. With Dean's reputation-"

"He probably will be someone she goes after." She was starting to get it. "I take it there aren't that many hunters who have monogamous relationships."

"Usually, there are a lot of one-night stands." Sam offered awkwardly. "That's why-"

Jess grinned and dragged down Sam's head. "He needs his oh so attractive and loyal brother." She cut off his next word with a kiss. "I get it sweetie. I just can't help but get nervous that you're going to be a little in over your head. I mean he'll be watching your back as well, and you certainly can protect yourself; but it's been a while."

"I would be lying if I didn't say I was a little nervous as well. In theory, it should be easy though. We need to find out where she's buried and just burn her bones. It should be over after that." Sam lifted his hand to run a hand through her hair.

"And in practice." The motion had her a little breathless.

Sam smirked. "I can't say. Hunting is kind of like real life, I don't know if I'm going to slip on a puddle and crack my head open, or win the lottery. We gotta deal with the punches as they come."

"Not filling me with a whole lot of confidence." Jess trailed a hand down Sam's chest. "But I suppose I can offer you an incentive to come home in one piece."

Sam's smirk widened. "Oh can you."

Jess pushed herself up to reach Sam's ear and started to whisper. Sam's casual grin turned more aroused the more she spoke. When she finished she planted a kiss just beneath his ear. "Does that sound fair to you."

"Sounds more than fair." Sam pulled her up for another kiss. "I won't be gone that long, and I'll be home well in time for the interview. I still want you to watch out for yourself. Lock the door behind you. Draw a line of salt across the windows and doors, and those mats with the devil's traps-"

"By the door." Jessica dutifully finished. She brushed a strand of his hair out of his eyes. "What's got you so spooked, baby?"

Sam turned his head away. "Nothing."

"Sam, you don't need to hide anything from me." Jessica soothed. "You gotta talk to me if something is bothering you." She'd seen her boyfriend pop in a more than a few Tylenol to fight off the awful migraines he was suddenly getting. She had chalked it up to stress over the LSAT, but even his sleep was getting to be affected. She even noticed him reading the newspaper like a mad man in the morning and blanching over random stories he'd find. When she'd go back and read through a few they usually involved murder of some kind. She'd assumed it was because he was a hunter and always assumed the worst in _normal_ news stories but then again she had been too afraid to ask.

"I'll talk to you once I get back. I don't think anything is going to be wrong. It's been too long since-" Sam bit at his lip. "We'll talk when I get back. Okay."

"Okay. Sam?"

Sam was in the process of getting off the bed and finish packing. "Yes?"

"I love you." She met his eyes and poured all the emotion she could into her stare.

"I love you too, Jessica." Sam said softly. His expression wasn't the same nervous look. This time he had an odd sparkle in his eyes. "There's so much more we need to talk about once I get back."

Jessica gave her boyfriend a brilliant smile. Rebecca had blabbed that her brother Zack had seen Sam walk into a Jared's. Of course he could have picked up a bracelet, but Zack had distinctively seen Sam leaning over a case of rings. Jessica was over the moon. She was reaching the point of wanting to further the relationship. Sam was amazing and she didn't think she'd ever find any other guy quite like him.

"I really look forward to it."

xxxOOOxxx

Dean groaned loudly and parked the car. It had been a few days they'd been gone. Five days after Sam and Dean had left to go to the hunt and they were returning all limping in some form. The car was going to need some work after Sam drove it into a building. Granted the wood was weak and didn't do the girl too much damage. Sam had already heard the long and tired speech about taking care of nice things. And Sam. Well he had a few holes in his chest. Apparently Constance decided that cheating me wasn't enough. She would go after guys who hadn't cheated, only she would turn them cheaters. So Sam made out with a ghost had her stab his fingers into his chest a few times. Dean imagined that Jessica would be giving _him_ a speech about taking care of nice things; her nice things.

"Think she'll kill me?" Dean questioned. His tone slightly worried.

"Nah, dude. Just be safe though I'll keep my wincing to a minimum." Sam laughed. "At least until you leave."

Sam unconsciously slid out of the car in unison with his brother and closed the passenger door. He walked up the way the apartment building and turned back when he heard his brother curse sharply. "Dude I got check in with dad."

"He traded Florida, for woods. Dad's off hunting a wendigo right now. No way in hell he has reception. And no way he even picks up the phone in the first place." Sam scoffed lightly.

Dean waved a hand wearing an unamused expression. "Yeah and he still busts my balls for not checking in before and after hunts. I mean I'm twenty-six dude not five."

"Whatever." Sam chuckled. "Come up when you're finished. I'm sure Jess made cookies."

"You wouldn't know she's not been picking up her phone for the last few days." Dean dialed his dad's number and pressed send.

"She's probably just mad I went. She was nervous when I left. But you know that right, girlfriends being all worried about you, oh no you don't." Sam laughed as he opened the door to the building.

"I get more tail than you." Dean yelled back a rebuttal before Sam closed the door behind him.

Sam had been worried. The first day he'd figured that she was off doing her own thing. Then visions of something horrible happening to her slipped into his mind all over again. No it wasn't possible. Everything he'd _seen_ hadn't waited so long to occur. There was no way. The second day he tried to fight off the concern, and the third he'd succeeded when everything started going downhill. By the end of the hunt, he'd already dealt with trying to get his brother out of police custody and trying to find the body of Constance Welch to have it burned. Then his father had called mid hunt to inform the boys that the trail had gone south in Florida very quickly. He'd found the demon and it wasn't tied to their mother. So he was off to hunt somewhere else, Blackwater, Sam thought. Sam hadn't really thought about his silent phone up until they were on their way back and Constance was gone.

Dean was probably right though. She was probably ticked that he'd gone off in the first place. He'd already thrown out he'd _never_ hunt. And there he was playing back-up to his brother. No everything was fine. Sam took the stairs two at a time, eager to see his girlfriend's face. The ring in his pocket weighed down heavily. If she was awake it seemed like the right time. He was going to do something special, but special be damned. He was returning from a hunt victorious and how romantic was that. He wasn't sure, Jess was the deciding factor on that it seemed, but he thought it was pretty romantic.

At the door the apartment he dragged out the keys and fumbled with them a second before unlocking the door. "Jess!"

Nothing was out of place. The mat with the engraved Devils trap still sat where it was, salt lined every window and every door way in the place. He was glad she'd actually taken the precaution. The shower was running. She probably couldn't hear him. He passed his way through the kitchen and there on the scuffed up table was a note. _Missed you! Love you!_ In her messy writing. Over a plate of cookies.

Sam smirked and glanced at the door in lieu of his brother. "Told you."

He scooped up on of the cookies and took a bite before wandering into the bedroom. After he ducked into the bedroom, went towards the bathroom. "Hey Jess. Dean and I just got back. I offered Dean our couch. He's got a long drive ahead of him, and he was going to rent some motel room. I figured you didn't mind."

Sam stalled next to the shower. Now that he thought about it, it didn't sound like anyone was in the shower. It sounded like the water was directly hitting the bottom of the tub. A quick tug on the curtain and Sam froze. Just as he thought there was no one in there.

"Jess?!" His voice held a hint of panic. "Come on this isn't funny." He'd made it to the center of the room before he bit down on his lip and froze again. He didn't want to look up. There was no way that he wanted to even chance a glance at the ceiling. "She's not there. She's not there." Sam moved his head up. "She's not- Noo, Jessica!"

There she was, just like in his dreams. Wearing the same nightgown from the evening he'd left. Pinned mysteriously to the ceiling her stomach damp with blood, and a spot on the bed where she'd been dripping. For an agonizing second she shifted her gaze towards him. _She was alive!_

Sam heard his door being kicked down, but didn't react, fire shot from around her body and started to engulf her lower half. "No, I'm sorry. I'm- I'm getting you down." He rushed to stand on the bed, and felt arms circling around his waist. Sam was dragged away before a ball of fire singed the carpet he'd been standing on.

Sam fought and he heard his brother grunt in pain when his elbow made a sharp connection with Dean's chin. "Sam. We don't have time."

"No, I can get to her. I have to."

"Sam, she's gone." Dean grunted and jerked both Sam and himself away from the bedroom. "We gotta get out."

"No!" Sam squirmed more, and Dean let go to twist his brother around and give his brother a sharp punch to his head. Sam didn't fall unconscious, but he did slump down stunned. Stunned enough that Dean bent down and put his brother over his shoulder. Dean offered the inflamed bedroom one last look before stepping over the fallen door and down the stairs. Dean and Sam were the first out of the building. A few more people stumbled out in various dress, and shocked students spilled out from the adjacent buildings. Sam collected himself enough to pick himself up and try for the building again.

"Sam. She couldn't have made it." Dean said softly, blocking his brother. "There's no point in you trying to run back in there."

Sam's voice dropped low. Dangerously low. "Get out of my way."

"No, Sam." Dean scowled matching his glare. "I'm not letting you run in there to die."

Sam's mask of anger cracked for a second. "Jess. She's-"

Dean put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "She's gone. I'm sorry, Sam."

"No." Sam turned away and put a hand to his head. "It's not- I was going to- Dean, what do I do?"

"I don't know, Sammy." Dean said softly helping his brother lower down onto the lip of the sidewalk. He glanced back only to see the blazing fire trucks rushing in to save the day. "I'm sorry."

 **(Sooo if you made it to the end then please leave a review or a PM. And please inform me if anything is off in the chapter. I hate reading through a chapter again and again only to find a mistake I missed.**

 **And to EmilyAnnMcGarrett-Winchester, I do apologize. You expressed interest in Jess, and well I kinda killed her. In my opinion there are two moments in the story of the Winchesters that are staples. Mary's death, and Jessica's Death. Of course there are cases in fanfictions where the plot relies on a change.)**


	5. Chapter Five

**(Thank you to lenail125, and my lovely guest Ruby for your review. You guys are the best.)**

 **Chapter Five**

To put it simply, Dean was worried. His brother was too quiet. It was almost like his smart and very alive brother had given up on everything. On talking, on eating, he even had his walk slowed to a crawl. Dean made sure to keep a firm hold on is brother's arm. Sam was too much like John. If Dean released his hold on Sam, his little brother would run. Not to anywhere in particular, he would just run. That's what his brother did when life got too hard, he would take off running and exhaust himself until he collapsed. Usually that happened in the comfort of the lot. Now here in California so far from home, Dean couldn't be sure where his brother would run.

His brother hadn't spoken to anyone. He'd only sat halfway out of the Impala his feet firm on the road, and his eyes unblinking from the firefighters still arguing with the blaze. He had only spoken when the police asked for his statement, and even then he stared at his grey shoes that had been white before stepping into his apartment. When the police had gotten everything they could from the two brothers they'd finally left them, impressing upon them the fact that if they had future questions they would like him to be available. Basically don't leave town. Whatever. Dean was more focused on getting his brother somewhere other than here. Dean folded up his brother's legs inside the car and shut the door quietly.

Dean was able to guide his brother inside a motel room, but his brother plopped down on the bed immediately upon sight. Try as he might Dean couldn't even get his little brother to shower. Even once Sam had a bottle of water pressed into his hands Dean had to pull it out and force his little brother to take a drink. His brother had gone full comatose.

He himself wanted to take a shower. Like Sam he was covered in soot, and had the paramedics treat his minor burns and have him breath in some oxygen. Dean was ready to wash the horrible smell off of him, but once again, he didn't want Sam to go running. Dean took his respective spot on the bed next to the door and rubbed his hand through the shadow.

He made a quick inhale and lifted pleading eyes to his brother. "I need you to say something. Anything."

His brother didn't move. He stared at his shoes with the same dead expression.

"Please Sam." Dean's voice took a pleading tone to match his eyes.

Sam still didn't move but he finally did speak. His voice was deadpanned. "What do you want me to say?"

Dean scrubbed another hand across his shadow. "I want you to talk to me."

"You hate talking."

Everything was too quiet and calm. Dean knew just what horrors were circulating through his brother's mind, despite the cold exterior. "Sam..."

"We could talk about the puffin. The beak loses its bright color after breeding season." Sam still found his shoes interesting.

"Sam."

Sam didn't hear his brother. "Both male and female of the species work together to construct the nest. They line it with either grass or leaves and-"

Dean stood up sharply. "Damn it, Sam. Shut up about the stupid penguins."

"Puffins." Sam corrected.

"I still don't care." Dean snapped. "I know that if you continue to keep this wrapped up tight, you won't do so good. So we gotta talk about this."

"No we don't." Sam flopped boneless on the bed but twisted his head to face the wall. Right now the ceiling was an unfavorable sight. He kept expecting to see Jessica up there. Bleeding and burning. "I'll talk about puffins, the weather, but not that."

Dean understood. Sam thought for a little while that he could be happy. That he could accomplish the white picket fence dream. Sam had fallen madly in love with a girl and she had accepted him for who he was. Freak with crazy things coming after him and all, and this evening she was gone just like that. It was another death, that in Sam's mind, was his fault.

"Look I get it, Sam. You-" Dean stopped.

Sam suddenly and furiously rose to full height. After being crouched down and trying to curl in on himself and just disappear, his brother looked so large and imposing. Sam bumped his chest against his brother's and Dean allowed himself to be knocked down on the bed. Fury radiated off of him. "You get it? You fucking get it?! You don't get shit."

Dean didn't say anything. Usually it didn't take much to get the big kid to talk. Talking was something that his sensitive brother just did. But the older Sam got he tried to pick up the family motto. Keep everything to yourself. No matter what anyone asked, _you were fine_. Dean would sometimes have open the situation to have a talk. He usually didn't have to shove Sam through the door.

"You don't get that everyone _dies,_ Dean. Mom died above my crib, and Jess died above our bed. Everyone dies. I cannot be normal. I cannot be happy. I thought I could. I had her for three years. Three freaking years and just like that it's gone. It's all gone up in flames _again_. Well you want to know something. Fuck your understanding, and fuck life." Sam's hand shot into his pocket and he ripped out a velvet box.

"Remember how _weird_ I was acting. Well I was going to propose. I was going to make the step to keep her in my life forever, and Yellow _fucking_ Eyes decided I was too happy. The enjoyment level was far too high. So now, I've lost her. Her parents have lost her. Her two sisters lost her. I ruined another family. I'm a cancer, Dean." Sam's voice lost its anger and Dean finally saw the beginnings of tears. "I'm a cancer. I just need to be cut out and destroyed."

Dean kept his voice soft. "Sam-"

Sam ducked his head down. The small velvet box slipped out of his brother's abnormally long fingers. "You should cut me out of your life. I don't want you to die. I don't want any of you to die. Dad, Bobby, Missouri, Pastor Jim, Caleb-"

"Sam." Dean scowled. "You are not a cancer. Everyone loves you and wouldn't dream of having you out of their lives. Especially me. Dude, I need you."

"What if you die. What if any of you die all because of some stupid plan with some stupid unnamed demon. I don't want to be responsible for another death. I don't want to watch as everything I care about just crumples around me."

Dean had enough. He stood up and cupped the back of his brother's neck. "I will never leave your side. And Yellow Eyes, that fucker will have to do a whole lot to kill me. You know me. You know dad. We do not go down without a fight. I'm sorry about Jessica. I really am. She was a nice girl. But you are not to blame. It is not your fault." When Sam refused to meet his eyes Dean moved his brother's head to force them to. "Hey, hey Sam. Get that through your college brain. It was not your fault."

"But it was." Sam said his voice low. "I could have stopped it."

"Unless you've gone all psychic and saw it all happening then you couldn't have known." Dean chuckled but his attempt at humor died when his brother's sad puppy eyes drooped down. "You didn't, did you? You didn't see it happening, right?"

Sam squeezed his eyes shut. "You don't want that answer."

"Sam." Dean prodded further. Yes, Jess had died and he wanted to be supportive. But he also needed to be kept in the loop. The best way to protect his brother was to know what was going on with his brother. "Sam if I'm keeping you safe I gotta know."

"I have these dreams at night." Sam's voice was broken. "They're so vivid and horrible and at first I just thought it was the job. I thought the horrors of hunting was following me, but one day I looked in the paper and there was my dream. A woman dead, and I had seen her. I had seen her die. Her husband had gotten angry because she was cheating on him. Walked in on it and shot them both. I saw it. I felt his anger. I would try and match my dreams to stories in the paper or news after that. Thought maybe I could call, as some anonymous tip. Then about a week before you showed up I had nightmares about Jessica. She was reading on the bed, and this thing flattened her against the wall." Sam choked in a sob. "And she slid up the wall and along the ceiling until She was in the middle of the ceiling. Then time passed. You could see it darkening and lightening outside the window, like sped up days. And I walked in and-"

Dean swallowed. "Fire."

"Yeah." Sam put a hand to his head. "I was so afraid it would come true, but I also convinced myself that it wouldn't. Because usually I would dream something and one or two days would pass before something happened. No more than two days. After a week, I thought I was safe. I thought-" Sam lost the strength in his legs. "She was up on the ceiling for days. She probably was pinned up after I left. She was crying. Scared."

Dean matched Sam's height and wrapped his arms around his big, little brother. Dean tipped his brother down and they both went to the ground, Sam half in Dean's lap. For the first time in a long time, Sam wrapped his arms around Dean's middle and ducked his head down to press into his chest.

"I failed her Dean." Tears finally started tumbling out. Every emotion he'd concealed that evening came out in those hot tears. "I'm just as monstrous as the things we hunt."

"You know that isn't true." Dean soothed. "It's never true."

xxxOOOxxx

Bobby's head perked up at the sound of the Impala's engine. Finally, the boys were home. Buddy lazily sleeping at his feet perked up as well and bounded out of the dog door. Bobby couldn't catch the mutt before he'd disappeared. Today was not the day for the dog to get excited and jump around and he hoped Buddy would keep his wits about him and sense just that. Sure enough once he stepped out onto the porch, Buddy was half in the impala and half out giving the boy some kind of hug. Bobby was about to call the dog but he saw break into a small smile and laugh. From Dean's look he hadn't done that in a while.

Dean shifted out of the car and tried to close the door quietly but since that wasn't possible with his car he ended up startling the two reconnected friends. Dean threw Sam an apologetic look, and Sam shrugged. He glanced down at Buddy and rubbed to top of the dog's head.

"Come on boy. I bet I can beat you around the lot." The wide smile he gave the dog was reminiscent of what his boy used to always give him but Buddy knew his boy wasn't really happy. None the less he knew that his boy needed this, and leapt off the kid and got into a position to race. Sam tagged Buddy and raced off into the lot and Buddy ran behind barking. The kid and the dog disappeared into the maze of the lot.

Dean watched his brother go and gave a sigh. "We'll have to find him. Kid will exhaust himself and not have the strength to walk back."

"I know, I've helped you find him on more than one occasion. I bet he's been dying to do that since the fire." Bobby threw out the observation as he walked down the stairs and helped Dean unload the Impala.

"Yeah, I didn't know where he would go so I didn't let him, but now-" Now the kid was home and Dean knew all the hiding spots his brother could crawl and squeeze into. He'd let his brother run. Some reason Sam always felt better afterwards.

Bobby dragged out a box out of the back seat that smelled of smoke. From the slight burns on some of the items Bobby figured that it was whatever survived from the fire. It didn't look like too much, had made it out. On the top of the box was a picture that had sustained little damage. It was the picture of Jess and Sam in front of the Christmas tree. It had water damage and was a little burnt on the edges, almost significant of what damage the kid probably had on his heart.

"This all that was saved?" Bobby looked sadly up from the box.

"Yeah. Wasn't much. After the fire was out and they'd investigated, they let me back in to take a look at the place. It was destroyed, Bobby." Dean propped open the door with his foot and he dragged in his duffle and helped Bobby with the box. "They set that place up a year ago, and last I had seen it, they were making it theirs. Now it's just- it's just a hollow burned out shell. Sam didn't have any clothes other than the ones he had worn. He has nothing but- but that." Dean helped put down the box on the ground in the hall.

"And us." Bobby corrected softly.

"He always has us." Dean agreed. "I'm going to uh- I'm going up stairs and checking on what clothes he left behind. Whatever needs to be replaced I'll run to town with Sam and we'll pick up a few other things for him." Dean was about to head up stairs but paused. "Has dad responded to any of our messages?"

Bobby scowled and rubbed a hand across his stubble. "No, I don't think the stubborn, son of a bitch has even checked his phone."

"He did say the hunt would take him in the middle of the woods. No service, no electricity. I don't know when he'll be finished." Dean shrugged. "I think he said something about a Wendigo. Somewhere in Blackwater or something like that."

Dean scowled and scrubbed a hand across his face. "I guess we'll have to wait until-"

The boy didn't get a chance to finish. The rumbling of a familiar truck sounded and Bobby made it to the window in time to see a big imposing black truck driving to the front of the house and parking. Dean joined Bobby a little later and didn't even blink as his father hopped out of the truck a thick bandage on the old man's arm and blood staining it. All the kid did was walk to the door and mutter under his breath about torn stitches.

"Would you mind letting me tell him?" Dean's expression exhausted further than Bobby thought possible. Bobby would have to talk to Dean as well and make sure the kid wasn't going to overwork himself to the point of collapsing.

"Sure boy." Bobby said softly. "I'll be in the study. Annie is on a hunt in Milwaukee, and called for some help."

Dean any other occasion would have joked about Bobby's lover, but today certainly wasn't the day. "Thanks." Before his father could reach the door Dean had opened it and stepped out onto the patio. "Hey, you okay?" He gestured to the bandaged arm.

Apparently his poker face wasn't up to par because his father's suspicions raised instantly. "I'm doing fine. Got clipped by the claws. I just need to have Bobby redo my stitches is all. What's wrong? Why is there the smell of smoke?"

Now that Dean thought of it the box had left a stale smell behind it. "I uh. I gotta talk to you about that."

Telling Bobby had been tough. His brother had been on the bed refusing to stare at the ceiling but refusing to get off his back, while Dean had stepped out to make the horrible call. Bobby had done a search of the demonic activities in the area, and sure enough they closely mirrored signs from the day of his mother's death.

"Talk to me about what?" Now John was really concerned.

"Jessica is dead. There was a fire, and-" Dean stopped.

He didn't have to go further. His father had already pieced together the story with precision. He already knew what Sam had seen, and what his youngest was going through. From Dean's tone and manner, it mirrored everything that had happened this his Mary, his boy's mother. Every part of his heart bled for the kid.

"Sam saw her on the ceiling? The demon?"

"Yeah. I saw it too. I joined Sam at his place after the hunt and I- well there was just something wrong. I came in on time to drag Sam away, but yeah, I saw her on the ceiling. It was just like you said. The flames…they _leapt out_ at Sam. Like it was trying to keep him away, from saving her, and the fire was coming from around her." Dean dragged a hand across his mouth. "The police don't suspect foul play. Apparently he was the perfect amount of shock, his friends vouched for him that he was out of town, and they're labeling the whole thing an accident." Disgust was clear in Dean's tone. "Inspectors are more than willing to assume that Jessica knocked down a candle and the bed caught fire."

"Then the floor would have more damage than the ceiling. I could do their job with my eyes covered." John snarled. He recalled the police back in 1983 saying the same thing. No one cause the fire. It was some faulty wiring.

Dean shrugged, his eyes still blazing. "I know. At least they're not dragging Sam through the mud for this."

"Yeah." John said quietly. However, the mention of his youngest boy John felt a sharp sense of worry course back through. "Where is Sam now?" John demanded.

"We just got back from Stanford. Sam immediately went running with Buddy. I'm giving him some time before I go out and hunt him down." Dean winced at the thought of whatever was actually _hunting_ his brother down and wished he had used another term. "He's quit school."

John sighed and wasn't sure how he felt on that matter. On one hand his son was safer being around his family, that had always been certain. But on the other hand, Sam was a highly independent kid. He hated being under the scrutiny of his family, however well meant it was. Not to mention just how hard his smart boy had worked at to get in there in the first place. That school had been his first choice. " _He_ quit school?"

"Yeah, he says it's not safe."

"For him or everyone else?" John asked pegging his son's point without much thought.

Dean scowled. "Both, I imagine. He obviously isn't taking this very well, and I didn't expect him too. I had to keep prodding him to finally break down that night."

To say John wasn't happy about this would be an understatement. John was furious. It was one thing to mess with his happiness, but it was another thing to go directly after his son. Any one of his sons. Any supernatural son of a bitch with the balls to touch a hair on either of his boys usually ended up with said balls ripped off in a horrifying manner. John bit back his anger though. This was not what Sam needed. He had gone down the anger route when Sam was a child and look where that had gotten his family. Him as a drunk, Dean as a mother, and Sam in a cooler nearly dead. "How long are you giving him?"

"An hour. He isn't back by then; I'm searching for him." Dean shrugged.

John wasn't stupid. He knew his son would run just like he would. Now when John ran, he got in a truck and went days away from the boys no cell phone no contact, but Sam he'd just take an hour to exhaust himself. It all came from the same place though. If they were honest Dean was the one keeping everyone together. Dean was the strongest of all of them. "You already know he won't come back on his own. He'll need help."

"I know. And I'll be there. I've always been there." It wasn't a dump on his dad but he saw the old man wince all the same. "He'll need you too." Dean added quickly. "He'll need you to help him through all this. Just don't let him spiral down like-"

"Like I did." John finished. He raised his hands when Dean tried to correct the nature of the statement. "I get it son. I will suggest though that the alcohol in the house disappear. Sam wasn't a big drinker before, but- but tragedies tend to change someone's nature."

Dean nodded. "Bobby took care of that before we even showed up. No beers for anyone for a little while."

"I can handle that." John stated easily. Despite being sober a long time now, he still had his issues with alcohol. If he could he tended to avoid it. "I shouldn't be near the stuff anyways."

The discussion died down. Dean was emotionally spent from the week he'd spent in Palo Alto; with the police, with the fire, and with his brother. And John, was uncomfortable. He was still the kind of dad to throw meaningful glances and not words. When they both entered the kitchen dumping John's belongings in a heap next to the door they met Bobby's steady gaze. John went straight for the coffee and Dean joined his uncle at the table.

An hour went by and no words were exchanged. Neither did anyone look at each other. The only shift was when Dean glanced up at Bobby's clock and sighed. "I'll be back."

Sure enough about thirty minutes later he was. John beat Bobby out the back door as they heard Buddy barking a warning towards the house. The boys were coming in. Dean was helping a very drooped Sam back towards the house Sam's long arm draped over his brother's shoulder. Sam had his head ducked down pressed into his big brother's chest, but he shifted his feet awkwardly in time with Dean's. John looped Sam's other arm around his shoulder and supported his son's other side.

"Hey kid." He said softly.

"Hey dad. She's dead." Sam didn't start crying but his face drooped further. In an attempt to meet his father's eyes, he raised his head and missed a step. Had his family not had a firm hold he would have taken them all down. "She burned. He did it."

John brought one of his hands to support him. "I know. I'm sorry."

"I loved her dad." Sam's voice cracked in a bizarre combination of emotion and exhaustion.

They had reached the porch and stopped in front trying to get Sam to lift his feet high enough to make the step. "Hey sport. Help us get you up this step."

"I loved her sooooo much." Sam almost drunkenly pulled his foot up and they cleared the step. "Why do I bring bad things? I don't want to bring bad things."

"I'm sorry son." John soothed. They brought Sam in and Bobby closed the door behind them.

"Straight up." Dean grunted as he continued to support his huge little brother's weight. Bobby flanked the trio in case they needed help.

"I don't want to see things in my dreams anymore." Sam sobbed. "I don't want to see people dying. I don't want to see her dying."

That caught John's attention. John cast his glance to his eldest who shook his head firmly. The idea was clear, there was something up, but not now. This was not a discussion to have at the moment with an emotionally distressed Sam between them. "I know Sammy. I know, no visions tonight."

"You promise." Sam slurred.

Dean scowled. He hated promising anything he couldn't prevent. He was still looking into his brother's _situation_ and didn't have a clear read on what was going on with him. But right now Sam just need to hear some reassuring words. And who knew, maybe he wouldn't wake up screaming tonight. "I promise, dude."

 **(Hey if you've gotten this far then you've made it to the end of the chapter. If you liked it feel free to leave a review or even a PM, please tell me how I am doing.)**


	6. Chapter Six

**(So major thanks to Souless666 and lenail125. It was a tough one to write, and I wasn't sure I had gotten reactions right. It's so easy writing about happy fluffy moments, and tough writing depressing things without going too dramatic.)**

 **Chapter Six**

At four he remembered being confused. Not about his mother. He understood the concept that his mother was for all purposes gone. She was up in heaven with angels everyone kept saying. The first time he'd thought she'd come back when she was finished, but later he figured out that meant she was gone for good. He wouldn't see her again. No he was confused about his father. His dad was someone who woke up early and went for a run in the morning before clocking in at the garage. His dad would smile and tickle him whenever he got home from work. His dad would grab the football and they'd toss it a few times in the backyard. His dad even promised he could play on a league when he got older.

At four, once the fire had burned hot and long, leaving Dean and his family homeless and motherless, Dean was confused. His dad wasn't the same. He smelled _funny_ a lot of the times. He would go the day grunting rather than speaking words, and rarely caught Dean's eye. He was no longer attentive to Dean or Sam. Mike Guenther, the owner of the shop he worked at, and his wife Kate were letting them live in their home for a little while, and they would help Dean. Miss Julie would even come over as well, and play with Dean and Sammy. His Daddy and Mr. Mike used to be friends, but whenever his Dad did talk he usually yelled at Mr. Mike about not wanting to work, and not wanting to get up. And Sammy. He was told by his dad to take care of Sammy. So he was the only one allowed to feed him, and change him. He would rock Sammy to sleep at night.

He did wish his father would get up and help though. He remembered standing at the foot of his father's bed and jostling his father's leg. Sometimes the only word he would say to anyone other than Sammy, in a single day would be _Dad_. In hope the "knock out juice" he'd taken the night before would wear off and he would wake up.

Now Dean sighed and scrubbed a hand across his shadow. In their shared room (Despite any arguments or big talk they never had the heart to get separate rooms) Dean now stood at the foot of his little brother's bed. Sam's system was free of _knock out juice_ but he was in the same position he could recall his father all those years ago. Lying on his stomach his eyes squeezed shut. Only Sam wasn't asleep. Sleep would mean that he would be plagued with images of his girlfriend on the ceiling, and unless Dean would crush up sleeping pills in his brother's juice there was no sleep.

"Sam." Dean sighed. He put his hand on his brother's leg and jostled it. "Hey, I need you to get up. It's noon, and you smell dude."

Sam's eyes pressed closed harder.

Dean growled and kicked at his brother's bed frame. He was trying to be supportive, but he was tired of his brother being comatose. "I know you're not asleep. So get up. Get up and take a shower."

"I showered yesterday." Sam muttered into his pillow softly.

Dean still caught it though. "You showered a few days ago." He met Sam's eyes when his brother finally raised his head and looked up. "You were comatose all day yesterday. I get it dude, it's eating you up inside and you can't move, you have no appetite, and you just want to cease to exist. But you can't let the grief end you. You have to get up, Sam."

Sam weakly pushed up from the bed and put a hand to his aching head as he made his way vertical. "I'll shower." He didn't hear _Sam_ in the tone. Sam's sarcasm, and snark had disappeared once they'd cleared the fire.

"And eat when you're finished." Dean scowled and balanced his brother when he started to sway.

"'M not hungry, Dean." Sam muttered sleepily.

Dean scowled but didn't fist his hands and hit the wall like he wanted too. "You feeling lightheaded? Headache? Your stomach maybe not growling, but hollow? Or maybe your limbs they feel weak and it seems like it's taking a lot of effort to even get to the fucking bathroom? Well that would be your body running on fumes. You haven't eaten in a few days. I was lenient before, but not now. You will eat something, whether you're hungry or not."

"Yer bossy." Sam muttered and rubbed at his eyes.

"I'm a big brother, that comes with the job description." Dean finally released his brother and let him sink down on the toilet. "Now do I need to strip down too and hold you up or are you good?"

Sam wrinkled his nose at the thought of taking a shower with his brother. For once his voice held a tone of disgust and Dean nearly caught a hint of _Sam_ in it. "I can stand up by myself."

"Good." Dean gave a slight smile. He headed towards the door and turned before clearing the doorway. "Don't lock the door. I'll bring in a change of clothes for you and take the old ones."

"Dean?" Sam asked studying the shower.

Dean sighed. "Yes?"

"Where's the razor?" An eyebrow had shot up and Sam was giving his big brother a hurt look. To think that Dean felt the need to hide the razor from him stung.

Dean shrugged. He'd hidden everything that could cause physical harm for good measure. All the guns and knives were in secure places, and any medication was locked in Bobby's medicine cabinet downstairs. Instead he gestured towards his own face, emphasizing the very evident facial hair that hadn't been dealt with the past week- or two. "I dunno, I haven't used it in a little while. You need to shave?"

"No." Sam scowled.

Dean played off the exchange with confusion. "Okay then, what's the big deal?"

"Nothing." Sam drooped on the toilet seat. "Go away."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Whatever, I'll be back and get you some clean clothes." He closed the door behind him and listened to the sound of Sam mutter and grunt as he stripped off his clothes and stepped into the shower. He waited until the curtain was drawn and the water started before he headed to their room.

It had now been two awful weeks. The first week they'd stayed behind in Palo Alto, to clear Sam's good name, and they had checked around to see if the demon was still there. Bobby had insisted that the signs pointed to no, but Sam had been adamant. If the bastard was anywhere in the vicinity, he was ready to bust his balls. Once they'd made it to the house however all will power to do anything had disappeared. Sam wasn't getting up to eat. Sam wasn't getting up to shower. Sam wasn't getting up to do anything. Even Buddy would come around and drop his tennis ball to the side of Sam's bed, or hop up with the boy and curl up at his feet or side. Sam wasn't even responding to what was practically his best friend.

This would be the second time Dean had finally urged Sam to get up and take care of himself. And if this continued next week, well, it just wouldn't. Dean would allow his brother to mourn for a little while, but the kid needed to start working on dealing with it. Besides, Jessica would have wanted it that way as well.

Sam was in the middle of showering when Dean stepped back in the bathroom and switched out the rancid clothes for clean fresh ones. When he'd dumped the clothes in the basement next to the dryer and washer, he stepped back upstairs and collapsed onto one of the kitchen chairs.

Bobby looked up from his book. "Heard the shower going."

"Yeah, he's finally bathing." Dean sighed and rubbed a hand across his face. "I can't let him do this much longer Bobby."

"I know." Bobby shut the book spreading the dust around. "He's just trying to come to terms with it all. After the fire he was so sure the thing was around still, but- but now."

The trail had gone cold. The signs that they'd followed and not noticed until the fire, had disappeared completely. It was as if Yellow Eyes had taken a dump on Sam's life and just disappeared. "Yeah, the demons gone. I don't know where he's off to but, none of us can track him anywhere right now."

"He might have gone underground." Bobby frowned. "Just jostled the kid and ran, but I don't know why."

"He was happy." Dean sighed. He looked up at Bobby and fought back emotions. "He was going to propose."

Bobby stilled. He'd known about the visions. He'd known about the overwhelming similarities between his mother's death and his girlfriend's death. But no one had mentioned anything about a potential engagement. His heart bled further for the kid. "He got the ring?"

"In the cliché little box." Dean ached for a beer, but that would require pulling one from hiding. "Kid was ready to go down on one knee and start that baseball team."

Bobby dropped the book to the table. "You didn't mention that."

"It wasn't helping us find him." Dean shrugged. "Besides, Sam wasn't ready to have that brought up. Hell, he still isn't ready."

"I'll keep it on the down low." Bobby pushed back on the chair and stood up staring the coffee machine. It was a little late, but if he couldn't have a beer he'd have a cup of coffee. He'd just switch one vice for another. "Need a cup."

"Please." Dean moaned.

They sat in silence. Conversation wasn't high in the house since Jessica Moore's death. It had hit all of them hard. Not only was it hard to see Sam suffering the way he was, but it was hard not having her around. She'd become a staple in the family. She'd learned everything about Sam, hunting and all, and accepted the boy for all he was. She'd called on Bobby and Dean's bullshit whenever they would talk. Act like one of the guys and share a beer. And even fought with them during football games. She had been so good for Sam, and both knew it would be a while before Sam opened up to anyone ever again.

"He's still using his college brain." Dean joked. He flinched however at his familiar term. Sam was no longer in college, Yellow Eyes had effectively chased him out. "He noticed the razor was missing. I tried to be sneaky too."

"He's aware of how careful you are trying to be around him." John broke in as he walked in from outside. The door closed louder that it had opened and the dog door flap bounced up and down when Buddy pounced in. "Remember when I got pissed because Mike and Kate were tip toeing around me."

Dean scowled. "I'm surprised you do. You were at the bottom of a bottle last I could remember."

"Not a lie." John nodded joining Dean. "But my point still stands."

John had been urging Dean to stop coddling Sam. It wasn't helping the kid any. All it was doing was helping Sam not face reality when he was moping, and piss the kid off when he was angry. Two emotions Sam was feeling a plethora of.

"Well what would you have me do, Dad? I can bark orders at him. Maybe have him run a few laps around the house." Dean cocked his head and made a thoughtful expression. It would have read with sincerity, but both of the older men knew better. "Oh, I know, I can feed into the revenge that Sam must want and have him go incessantly after this demon. Wait sorry, that was you."

John narrowed his eyes. "I don't want you to bark orders, nor do I want you to stir him up. But the boy needs to start getting up in the morning, urge him to exercise and work off some of that emotion. He needs to have a schedule he can follow until he can do _normal_ again. I wish I had done that."

Dean's face softened. "Look I'm-"

"Don't apologize." John ground out. "This is hard on all of us seeing the boy this way. He may be your brother, but he's our son."

Bobby frowned. About a year after he'd returned to his boys and was visiting regularly John had started to refer to the boys as Bobby's sons as well. It wasn't meant to be mean, or offensive, but it was the truth. Bobby and John worked as a sort of couple to make sure the boys got everything they needed. Bobby just wished it didn't make it sound like they actually were a couple.

"John, there has to be a better way to explain that." Bobby groused.

"Point being. We all want Sam to get better. And Sam wallowing isn't doing that."

"I know." Dean finally sighed. "I just told Bobby I couldn't let Sam do this anymore. I'm not sure what I'll do but, he'll have to start getting up in the morning, and eating for sure. He's too freakishly tall to not eat."

The water cut off upstairs, and Dean heard the pressure die off in the pipes. "Okay. Can you heat something up Bobby? I'm dragging Sammy down here whether he likes it or not."

"Yeah, I can make him something real quick." Bobby nodded.

"Thanks." Dean didn't need to look to know that there were two pairs of concerned eyes following him towards the stairs and up until he was out of sight. He had already gotten the speech from Bobby about how he could dote on his brother, but he had to take care of himself in the process. Dean said he would but he wasn't doing a good job of it. He had gotten little sleep sitting over his little brother as he tossed and turned in the night. He told Bobby he got sleep but the darkness under his eyes told a different story.

At the bathroom door Dean leaned up against the frame and listened to his brother as he shuffled around the bathroom. One he heard the zip of his jeans Dean pushed the door open in time to see Sam buttoning the pants.

"Dean." Sam groaned, after he registered that it was in fact his brother imposing on him. "You could wait."

"You have pants on." Dean shrugged. "Now the shirt and we can go downstairs."

Sam muttered as he picked up a toothbrush unsolicited and scowled at his brother. "I don't need a baby sitter, besides I'm not-"

"Whatever you're about to say better not end in hungry, because we discussed this before. You _are_ eating. I already have Bobby downstairs making something." Dean growled.

Sam just rolled his eyes and put a line of toothpaste on the brush before scrubbing it across his teeth. He didn't work too hard at it; it was just to get the stale taste out of his mouth. After a rinse and spit, he looked up to find Dean with his arms crossed glowering up at his brother. "I'll eat something." Sam rolled his eyes. "Quit mother-henning."

"Have you met me?" Dean's scowl deepened.

"Unfortunately." Sam shuffled out of the bathroom, but for the first time in a long time he wore a slight grin.

Dean wanted to collapse his knees weak the second he saw his brother's lips turn slightly upwards. He'd seen them do that before in the passing weeks, but usually the expression failed to meet his eyes. This time there was a glow there that hadn't been there before. He played off his emotion. "Unfortunately!? I will have you know I am the best person I know."

"Suree." Sam's grin widened for a split second before he pushed past his brother and started for the stairs.

"It's true." Dean playfully smacked his brother's arm. He sniffed at the air and exhaled dramatically. "I smell bacon."

"Worse than a bloodhound." Sam muttered, but his blank expression had slid back into place. He'd allowed all the emotion he could out. Sam stopped, but he didn't turn. "Thanks, Dean. For everything."

Dean's playfulness dropped. The large part of his heart devoted to his snot nosed little brother practically started to bleed. Dean cuffed the back of Sam's neck and kept his calloused hand there for a second before clearing his throat. "Hey, anytime. I got your back."

"I'm going to head to my room then." Sam said quietly trying to play off what his brother had demanded a little while ago.

"Nope." Dean gave his brother a shove towards the stairs. "Nice play with the sentiment but you're still eating."

By the time the brothers had made it down the stairs and they'd entered the kitchen Sam was done with his protests. He couldn't explain it. Food had no appeal. It didn't look good, and it didn't smell good. Al it did was churn at his stomach. The last meal he had he'd chucked it back up again.

Dean cuffed his brother's neck again, only this time it wasn't a sentimental move, it was to force his brother into the chair. Sam took it without complaint. Bobby carefully looked over from the stove at the kid slumped in the chair. "Nice to see you up, boy."

Sam didn't respond.

Dean dropped a glace of juice in front of his brother. "Use words."

Sam managed a decent bitch face. "Thanks, Bobby."

It may have been annoyance, but Dean was happy with what he had gotten today. Sam had actually gotten out of his bed, and showered. He was going to eat a meal, and he'd gotten his brother to smile, and make a bitch face all in one day. Baby steps.

Bobby plated the eggs and strip of bacon and put it in front of the boy. He noticed Dean wrinkle his nose at the meager amount on the plate. "Here you go, Son. Your stomach hasn't had a lot of food the last couple of days, so we're going to start slow okay. We want you keeping down food."

Sam nodded but looked down at the plate like Bobby was serving a platter of severed fingers. "Thanks."

Conversation didn't start until Sam had dug his fork into the eggs and taken at least a single bite. Afterwards it remained polite and light. When Sam's plate was cleaned save the bacon, Dean swiped the strip off knowing his brother wasn't going to eat it. It was like they were starting all over again. It seemed not too long ago, a skinny-assed twelve-year-old sat at the table so sure he was going back to a life of motel to motel, so he didn't want to get too used to food. Now Sam was too sad to even think about eating. He desperately wished his brother could be normal.

"Any sign." Sam asked. There wasn't a twinge of anger. The angry phase had started after Sam had cried. He'd run himself ragged trying to find yellow eyes. Dean didn't allow himself to feed into his brother's anger then. Sam was too much like his father and he didn't want Sam going down the vengeance road.

"None yet. I however have one of Ellen's guys on it. Apparently the man that works the bar and sports a mullet has a techie background. Kid went to MIT. Course he got kicked out, but he is a genius with a computer." John stated.

Dean chuckled. "How would you know?" His father couldn't even work a flip phone.

John ignored his eldest in favor of watching his younger son. "I spoke with him at the bar about all the notes I had on trying to find this son of a bitch, and how difficult it was trying to find it all manually, and all he did was plug in the conditions. He can go back in time, and tell me where Yellow Eyes was before. Says that if he gets any kind of notice about him now, the computer will instantly tell him. And he of course will call me."

"You trust someone enough to give them your notes?" Sam's tone changed slightly but he couldn't muster a smile.

"I've had enough discussions with him. I only knew that he was able to find hunts that no one knew about. Except for the mullet he's alright." John shrugged. "What about you, Sam? Any headaches?"

He wasn't worried about the headaches. He was worried about what came with the headaches. One time, when Sam had nearly made it to the shower he'd collapsed and gripped his head. It wasn't a headache. All three men knew that despite the lack of hunting in the boy's life, he could handle pain like the rest of them. No this was skull splitting pain. He'd fainted. It took two of them to wrestle Sam in bed, and by the time Sam had woken up there was panting with tears streaming down his face.

 _His arm falling across his eyes to drown out the light. "Woman is going to die." Sam had moaned finally._

 _John and Bobby looked shocked. They'd gotten the visions discussion from Dean, with a few grunts from Sam. But they hadn't seen the kid in action. John however had the sense to flick off the light. From what he had seen his boy must have had an awful pounding in his head._

 _"How does she die, Sam? Where is she?" Dean asked instantly._

 _Confusion had mixed in with his sorrow. "I don't know."_

 _"You don't know?"_

 _Sam thought hard about it, or he was in pain. They couldn't tell with his expressions anymore. "The other woman touched her, and she fell over. She didn't mean to. She got scared."_

 _"You don't know where?"_

 _"They were in a hotel room. But there was a bunch of flyers on the bureau for things to do in Billings?" Sam muttered. "Other than that…"_

From there Bobby had pieced together Billings, Montana. The place was huge though. Biggest city in Montana, and John on his way over got the call from Bobby that he'd looked into the news there. Young woman found dead in hotel room. Apparently a Jennifer Stallings was headed home to introduce her girlfriend Lily Baker to her family. Jennifer was found dead in her hotel room, no foul play discovered. Her heart had simply stopped. However, Lily was gone. She hadn't even taken her things with her. Another body was found of a taxi man, without the taxi. Once again no poison, no markings on the body, his heart had just stopped. They were still looking for the car and the girl.

"I had a small headache for a little while afterwards, but-" He didn't need to finish. He hadn't seen anything else. "I never asked, was she ever found?"

"No." John answered. Once he made it there, he'd played FBI, and come up with nothing. "She was born however in 1983."

Dean leaned forward in his seat. He hadn't gotten that information. "Was there a fire?"

"That's where it gets weird." John scowled. "No, there wasn't. Best thing that I can come up with is that Mary went to check on Sam."

"Maybe if mom or dad hadn't checked on the baby-" Dean let that thought sink in.

"They'd still be alive." Sam finished. His voice low and tired.

Dean scowled. "I didn't mean it like that Sam."

"I know." Sam scooted back in the chair. "I'm going back upstairs."

Dean didn't fight his brother on the matter. He'd go up and talk to him in a little. "You're getting up and having dinner later."

Sam didn't respond but he didn't fight Dean on the matter either. Dean waited until he heard the door shut upstairs. "So all those other visions he's had, they could be tied to other _children_? I mean maybe they have some messed up connection we don't know about."

"I don't know Dean. When he's up to it, we can ask him about the other visions. You said he looked them up?" John rubbed a tired hand across his stubble.

Dean shrugged. "That's what he said. I didn't get around to asking just how many he actually placed."

Bobby grunted as he stood up and put Sam's plate in the sink. "I say we call in the cavalry. What does Missouri have to say about this?"

"About what? The children?" Dean asked.

"Everything. This is kind of her area of expertise. She's gotten thoughts and images from the demon. Also, she gets visions on the regular as well, what's to say she can't school Sam in what he's going through." Bobby offered.

"Because he won't be doing it long." John growled. "I'm finding a way to end this. To end whatever Sam has."

"And what if Sam is just a natural psychic. Maybe his abilities hadn't revealed themselves until now. What if the reason this creature is after these kids, is because they can see visions, or they can kill by touch, or whatever other abilities are out there?" Bobby growled back. "What if there is nothing to cure. This could just be Sam."

"It's not possible." John set his jaw firmly.

"And how do you know that. You couldn't even get your family medical history." Bobby felt himself boiling.

Dean thought long. He'd looked into all the books Bobby had on a way to stop his brother from seeing these visions of death. But maybe that wasn't the answer. Maybe his brother was just naturally meant to see them. "That's true dad. We know nothing about our family. Maybe there was a psychic in there somewhere we just don't know about."

"We know enough."

Dean frowned. "You barely knew mom's parents. They died before you were married. And unless mom brought up her family." His dad stayed quiet. "Then we know nothing about her side. Then there's your family. All we know about is your mom, the Whites. Your dad-" John's dad had run out on him when he was younger. Dean always figured that factored into his own father's need to run.

"Yeah. I'm still looking into it though." John stated firmly. "I'll double check the Campbell's, but no son of mine is-"

"Is what dad?" Dean growled. "You think this makes Sam a monster? Having visions doesn't turn them into that. You trust Missouri right. Why not Sam?"

"Your twisting words." John scowled. He slapped his hands hard on the table. He gave a firm glance to both of the men. "Call Missouri on training the kid. But I swear to you there is no need for it. He won't have this much longer."

 **(If you have reached the end of this chapter then please leave a review or a PM. I love hearing from you guys. Once again, if you also notice something doesn't quite add up with my story or if you notice that a sentence is off or I've misspelled something, then please inform me. I try and read through these stories a ton before I post, but I guess my minds starts seeing what I intended to write, rather than what was I actually put down. No feelings hurt, I promise.)**


	7. Chapter Seven

**(Sorry about the late post. Couldn't get internet access until tonight. But here it is. Before I start, lets begin with some huge thanks. WastedJaimie thanks for the review, and trust me, you want family drama you got it. lenail125, I hope you got that crazy long PM back from me. John is a hard person to write about. Seriously. And Souless666 as far a John's mental state is, you'll get more insight here. Dun Dun Dun.)**

 **Chapter Seven**

Sam was doing good. As good as he could expect. First Dean forced his brother out of bed, and shoved him outside. Well the patio really. Sam sat outside quietly with Buddy at his heels gnawing on a rawhide. Buddy got bored of the rawhide a little later and became determined to play fetch. After about the eleventh attempt, Sam picked up the little tennis ball Buddy would pick up and repetitively drop at his feet. Dean wasn't sure if it was annoyance that got his brother to pick up the ball and throw it, but it ended up in Sam and Buddy playing a very long game of fetch. It was small, but Sam seemed to enjoy it. It seemed to get everything off his mind for a short while at least. Any physical activity usually did that.

The day after Dean didn't need to prod. His brother found a book from the shelves and sat under the little tree from across the house. He even gave a genuine smile when Buddy came from his round and curled up next to him. Once again the exchange ended in Buddy prodding Sam to play fetch. The third day, Sam was up before Dean. When Dean checked the front and back of the house, Sam was nowhere in sight. He pulled on a light jacket and stepped out into the lot, only to find Sam jogging, Buddy at his heels. The dog for a second rushed to Dean with a drooped tongue in a greeting. Dean had rubbed the dog's ears and smirked as he gave a light thump with his leg.

"Hey Sam. If you had woken me up I would have joined you." Dean casually tossed.

Sam didn't show amusement on his face, but it wasn't sad either. He'd take it. "You don't get up for anything. I always was up way before you to work out."

The kid wasn't lying. Dean valued his sleep. Sam however without his father barking orders had found the physical activity therapeutic. Especially before tests. "Hey I eventually worked out."

"In the evening." Sam's lips flipped up in a slight grin.

"My sleep is valuable." Dean shrugged. "I'm headed back the house. When your finished I'll have breakfast."

"Bobby isn't up?"

"Not yet, but I bet the scent of bacon will get things going." Dean smirked himself.

"And dad?" Sam questioned.

John had been locked in the guest room upstairs, only leaving to grab a quick meal, or switch out Bobby's books. Dean wasn't happy with his father, and neither was Bobby. Sam had seen his father slipping into anger and revenge again, but would constantly have Dean and Bobby at his side to push him away from such thoughts.

"I don't know what Dad's doing." Dean answered.

Sam slipped back under his mask. "Okay. See you inside."

Dean watched his brother jog off into the little maze. Sam probably would be at that for another thirty minutes. He wouldn't tire out, Sam knew that Dean would come after him and make him eat breakfast. If his brother was going to start working out again, then fine. It was a good thing. It was a good way for Sam to work off his emotions in a healthy manor, but that meant Sam was burning calories. And Dean wasn't going to let his brother burn calories without putting in more. Sam was not going to exhaust himself again.

When Dean had stepped up onto the back patio, he sniffed at the air. "Bacon." He hummed softly. Bobby must be up after all.

Only once he'd opened the door there was Missouri taking out the first strip of bacon from the pan. "Why hello, sugar."

Dean paused for a second and shook his head before going to the bags at the counter. "I don't even want to know how you got in."

"Why the front door was unlocked, of course." She stated sweetly.

"It wasn't." Dean muttered digging through the bag. He hissed when the warm spatula smacked onto his fingers. He didn't say anything, but his glare was enough. With Missouri you didn't have to vocalize your thoughts. She already knew. "You probably picked the lock, when the back door was opened."

"The walk to the back door would have been too long. Besides your wrong again, sugar." She dangled a strip of hot bacon in Dean's reach. "You let me in."

Dean eyed the bacon and shrugged. In one swipe he took the bacon and went to the table. "Okay, I let you in."

"You let who in?" Bobby sleepily muttered. He appeared in the doorway and took in the woman cooking at his oven. An expression of irritation crossed his face and he scrubbed at his scruff. "You let Missouri in…"

"Yep." Dean said shorty taking his last bite.

"Did you give her the test?" Bobby asked.

Dean looked over at Missouri expectantly and she rolled her eyes and tossed another strip at him. "Yep." Dean grinned before crunching down on the bacon.

"Which means no." Bobby sighed. He let the matter go though. She had visited frequently enough and gave him so much crap about the test he wasn't ready to deal with that again. He had more important things to discuss. "I take it you know why we need your help."

Missouri dug through one of the plastic bags. "Of course. Sam lost his girlfriend. She was a sweet thing. You obviously know who did it." She waited for Dean and Bobby to nod. "And your worried about the visions he's been having. I'm all caught up."

"And?" He'd called her a few days ago, and he'd been anticipating her call back. He desperately wanted to know what she had to say on the matter.

"And this discussion can wait after Sam, and John have joined us for breakfast." Missouri muttered.

Bobby scowled. "He's upstairs in the guest room. He probably won't come down." Bobby was getting tired of John. Bobby was getting irritated at the way he was messing up the organization of the books, and of course he also hated the way that John was taking all of this. Sam was still angry, but without anyone to bounce off he was slowly slipping into acceptance. Although her death would always be something that would eat at his soul. He recalled losing his wife and _accepting it_ , didn't mean he didn't still mull about it. Meanwhile John was slipping back into his anger, and revenge. He'd done well the first few days, trying to support his son, but now not so. If he didn't start correcting his mood, Bobby would suggest that John find a motel somewhere.

"He'll come down." The woman pursed her lips and lowered her brows into a 'V.' "Once I'm all finished cooking that stubborn mule is coming down to hear what I have to say. As far as Sam goes, he'll be another ten minutes. Enough time for me to whip up some pancakes."

"What was the bacon for then?" Dean asked confused, as she started putting away the pan she'd made the six strips on. Six pieces of bacon didn't go very far in the house. Even with his veggie loving little brother, bacon went very quickly.

"To keep you two occupied while I made breakfast." Missouri rolled her eyes. "Bobby fusses that I'm cooking on _his_ stove, and you, Dean keep trying to eat everything as it's being made. You both are impossible.

She dug into her bags and started pulling out an array of things. Dean didn't say anything but balked at the amount of food being drug out of the bottomless bags. Breakfast? She was cooking up a feast. He noted the objects and what could be made with them, and pieced together that she making food specific for Sam. Blueberry Pancakes, eggs, and wheat toast. Basically the lame version of a breakfast. Of course Bobby and Dean's breakfast consisted of bacon, sausage, and more bacon. Although Bobby was starting to eat a little healthier. Turn coat.

Sam returned when she had a plate piled high with pancakes. He didn't say anything, just in a question pointed to the woman when she wasn't looking. The psychic woman, who knew and saw everything.

"Yes, I am here." Missouri barked. "I don't need an excuse to come see you boys. "Besides I have some information for you…after we eat."

Sam opened his mouth to say something and thought better.

"Quit thinking that way." She called over her shoulder.

"I wasn't-" Sam hastily started.

"Oh yes you were hon." She softened her voice. "I get that your hurting, but everyone in this home has lost someone they've loved. They've gone through everything you are. We are all just here to help you out boy. Besides, you are not alone. That's just how he wants you to feel." Her eyes took a knowing look as she regarded Sam. "You need to fight and push for the surface boy, or drown in your sorrow."

Sam froze. He looked up at Missouri his eyes wide. "What? What did you just say?"

"Just a saying, boy." She winked and switched off the oven. She brought over five plates and positioned them around the small table. "Now, I'm getting your foolish father. No eating until I return."

Sam dragged out a chair and sat down. "When did she get here?"

"I dunno." Dean shrugged. "Must have been when I went to go outside to find you."

"But you let her in." Bobby smirked. Picking at the last of the bacon she'd left as an offering.

Dean smirked back. "Exactly, I came back in and she was at the front door. That was when I opened the door to let her in."

"Boy, it doesn't take much to buy your loyalty." Bobby chuckled.

Sam watched the exchange but figured he didn't want to know. "What is it she's coming to tell us?"

"I don't know. It's Missouri. She's a mystery herself."

The three sat around the table awkwardly staring at the food, up until there was a loud thump, and a curse. Seconds later Missouri came down the stairs a firm grip on John's ear. Somehow the older woman was dragging John by the ear. John was still cursing and smacking at her hands, not wanting to hurt her, but wanting the grip gone.

"Dammit Missouri. I'm not a child." John griped.

"Then stop acting like one, John Winchester." She finally released her grip.

John straightened and the patch of red on his cheek was suddenly visible. John scowled, embarrassment making his mood the past few days worsen. "I don't see why Bobby allows you to come as you please. You seriously have no manners."

"You want to talk manners, John?" Missouri rolled her eyes. "You don't cuss at someone who is trying to help. Oh and don't lock yourself in a room. If you are a guest, then you socialize."

John gave a growl but pulled out a chair and thumped down hard into it. His gaze softened when he eyed Sam. "Hey Sam." Even if he was horrified at the kid's abilities, he wasn't horrified with his son. Sam was a victim in all this. The poor kid had gone through so much. The reason he was trying to find out why his son could do the things he could was to give him a normal life. Maybe once the kid was _cured_ he could move on and find another girl, make little floppy haired grandchildren for him, and have that white picket fence house.

"Hey dad." Sam said softly.

John scratched awkwardly at the back of his head. "Well, then, I'm out of the room. Explain."

Missouri scowled at him. "I told you, we are going to eat breakfast, then I'll answer questions."

xxxOOOxxx

Breakfast went by slow and awkward. They tried having a civil conversation; discussing the weather, and potential hunts. After breakfast Missouri got up to take back the dishes, but John smashed a fist down on the tale and growled. "I've eaten breakfast, and been civil. Now what do you know?"

She didn't look shocked by the outburst.

"I'd usually get after him, but he's right. It's been a long time, and we would like answers." Bobby said softly putting a gentle hand on her arm. "We need to know what you know."

Missouri cleared her throat, and sat back down. "Okay. Let's start at the obvious. He did come back, Sam. Why he went after your girlfriend, I don't know. I don't exactly have insight on the plan, I never have, and unless he slips up, I never will." Missouri got a little uncomfortable. "And so you know she wasn't in pain. Like your mother, it initially hurt but, it numbed. When I walked around your old apartment, I sensed that she was more worried, about you. She knew what this would do to you. Especially after your mother."

Sam shifted in his chair, his expression unreadable.

"I'm sorry, and I know you don't want to hear it. But your strong. It's hard getting past this now, and she'll always be a painful memory. But wounds scab over. It'll never be gone, but it'll hurt less." Her hand covered Sam's and rubbed at the boy's knuckles.

"And the visions?" John ground out.

Missouri sighed but didn't take away her hand, or her eyes from Sam. "I know your worried about them, John. You want to tell the rest of the class why you're so anxious to get rid of them. Because you sound like an ass without the explanation."

John sputtered.

When it was clear there would be now explanation from him, Missouri looked at all of them. "John is worried that Sam, is hurting more because of this ability. It scared him when the ability proved to put Sam in pain. Besides the pain, he wants the visions gone, so that Sam can go back to his life. He didn't like it when Sam's life got derailed. Plus, he's not only angry that something messed with not only him, but his son." She glared at John. "Who he loves, even though the words never come out."

Three shocked gazes went to John, and John didn't like it. He gave a growl and snapped out a profanity. "Thank you for the touchy feel-ey moment. We'll do the kumbaya circle after I get my answer."

"First, the pain is because you're fighting it." Missouri ignored John. "I'm not saying you need to embrace the power. That's something you have to decide on your own. But fighting it, means that in order to reveal itself it needs to fight back. And baby, it fights back dirty."

The air was heavy, as they waited for the second point.

"And I know that there is a mixture of feelings on this matter, but the ability is not hereditary. It was a dark gift left behind by _him_. Once again I don't know how, or why, and I don't know that I'll ever know, but it is." She scowled at John. "And _no_ , I didn't miss it. The reason I didn't know your son had this ability when I visited _all those times_ was because it was dormant, and disguised. It probably showed once the demon wanted it to."

"So all the kids…" Sam said softly, but didn't finish.

"Every child, visited by the demon, should have some ability. And yes, you are tied together somehow, that's why you dream about these young people."

Sam shut his eyes. The woman, Lily, the man who'd killed his cheating wife, the woman who had jumped off a bridge; they were all children like him. Who'd been cursed with something they'd never wanted. Maybe some of them had even lost their parents.

"Do you remember your other visions?" Dean asked. "Could you place the people in them, and we could try to see if they're all-"

"Born in 1983?" Sam finished darkly. "I kept a journal…in my apartment." That was gone. There wasn't a sound until Sam continued. "But I'll see if I can remember the cases, or the names."

"There's another piece to this puzzle." Missouri said softly bring back the attention to her.

Sam sighed and his head drooped. "And what's that?"

"I can't say for sure, but I know it has to do with your mother, and her family." Missouri still kept her voice low.

John scowled. "Mary had nothing to do with this. And her parents were long dead before that night. Besides, with what you just confirmed about Sam's powers, I don't need _that_ answer to prove anything." His wife hadn't done anything he was certain. She would never put her babies in danger. And he _didn't_ need to find out about her family anymore. The ability wasn't given to his son at birth, but by the bastard Yellow Eyes.

"I couldn't tell you why John, but something tells me you need to know about her and her family. And someone in the room has the answer."

"Who?" John scowled.

Missouri gave a pointed look towards Bobby.

"Whoa hey. I never met your wife." Bobby raised his hands defensively, when John threw Bobby a dark look. "Friendly or otherwise."

"You never met a Mary Winchester?" John questioned. He felt a growing anger at this line of discussion. He'd looked everywhere for the Campbell's. Near as he could figure they'd existed but kept everything to themselves. He remembered how secretive they'd been when he'd initially met them. How much of a dick her father had been. He figured her father was just some, ex-army shut in who didn't want to be found by the government.

"Plenty of Mary's none of them Winchester, or with rings." Bobby kept his hands up.

"She wasn't always Mary Winchester." Missouri offered.

John felt his face go red. He couldn't do much about his wife before he met her, but if Bobby had been with his wife _ever_ , he was going to spill blood. "Did you- before I was- with my future wife?"

Bobby backed out of his seat at the violent reaction. He threw an angry look over at Missouri. "Are you trying to get me killed?"

Unamused by John's bristling and Bobby's aghast, Missouri rolled her eyes and brought her hands. She stayed still for a second while John seethed. "Oh my god, you men think with your penis much more than you should. _What_ was Mary's name? Before she was Winchester?"

"Campbell. Mary Campbell." John spilled quickly. His anger dropped as he realized he'd never shared that information with his sons. He'd never wanted to talk about her. Only gave single answers whenever asked. His tone softened when he glanced over at his surprised boys. "Your mother's name was Mary Campbell."

Bobby stilled. "What were her parent's names?"

"Samuel and Deanna Campbell." He glanced at Sam. "We named you two for her parents."

"Heard of a Samuel and Deanna Campbell, knew they had a daughter who joined them, but couldn't recall her name. They all kind of disappeared." Bobby offered quietly.

"Joined them where? And what did you mean disappeared?" John asked.

Sam pieced everything together quicker than his mulling father and brother. "Bobby, are you saying my mom, was a hunter?"

"No." John's head shifted violently towards Missouri. "She was not- She would have-" He quieted. Their sudden deaths. Her aversion to guns or knives, but wanting them in the house all the same. Her insistence that salt was something they needed to stockpile just in case. The News. She hated watching the news, the mention of a death or a weird situation she'd slip into quiet thoughtfulness.

Dean said his voice small, too small for his larger than life son. "Dad…You don't think she was? Do you?"

John firmly met his son's eyes. The truth; she'd said a long time ago that despite what he thought, keeping secrets from his boys wasn't protecting them. They needed to know the things that hurt so they could prevent themselves from dying from something they could avoid. "If she was it makes a lot more sense. I couldn't find _anything_ on her family. And she had a lot of odd habits, that in that context aren't so confusing."

Sam remained quiet. She'd left. She'd tried to leave the life, and the life came back like a bad rash. It further proved his thoughts. He would never escape. Once you got in, you could never get out. A hand slipped up and he unconsciously sighed and leaned back in his chair. He wouldn't have even gone to school if he'd known that he would find someone and they would get hurt. He would have stayed home. Gone to some community college and get a simple enough degree. Hell he could have become a mechanic. No, he wanted something grander. He wanted to become a lawyer and stand in court like some hero.

John felt himself slipping back into anger. "Great. Next you're going to tell me my dad was some Men in Black agent and he left to go to some distant planet to protect space."

Dean was a little surprised he'd even known about movies after 1980, and any other time would have teased him.

"Actually…" Missouri paused her mind in deep thought, and her eyes staring off into nowhere.

Dean sighed. "Oh don't tell me aliens exist. Although I wouldn't mind meeting Mulder and Scully. Scully was kind of hot."

"No, I think you don't know everything about your dad, John." Missouri collected herself. "He's got a small part to play it this. A very small part to play, but I don't know what." When John whirled to face Bobby she quickly added. "And no one in the room does either."

John was exhausted. First his son was given powers by the SOB that killed his wife. Then his wife may have been a hunter, and now his father. His father could have secrets as well. It was too much for one day. His thoughts trailed off of him, and went to his son. If it was too much for him, was Sam okay? "Sam? Are how are you doing with-"

"Fine." Sam said tersely.

The word _fine_ was thrown around way too much. Carmen breaks up with Dean, and Dean is _fine_. John comes home from a hunt limping and nearly bleeding to death, and he's _fine_. Sam comes home from school on vacation and he's exhausted mind and soul, but he's _fine_ too. Even Bobby threw that word around too much. _Fine_ wasn't fine.

"I should go find Buddy." Sam stood up from his chair. "Make sure he's okay."

Bobby put a hand on Sam's arm to stop him. "Buddy is okay. He's just in the corner behind you. Sit back down Sam. We can-" Bobby got stopped.

"NO!" Sam burst out loud, and ripped his arm away. His tone went down and he scrubbed a hand across his face. Sure answers had been given, but with them so many more questions had appeared. "I mean- I'm fine, I just need some air. It's getting too stuffy in here."

Dean gave his brother a soft look. "Okay Sam, be back in an hour." Or he was going to look for him was heavily implied. He waited for Sam to leave out the back. Buddy perked up his head and followed.

Missouri took the time herself to get out of the chair and start to clear the table around the men.

John stood up from the table nearly knocking her down, had she not moved fore warned about the sudden action by her abilities. "I'm headed upstairs."

Bobby gave the man a sympathetic look. "You going to join us for lunch?"

"Yeah." John stated shortly. His hand itched to curl around his car keys and just drive. Nowhere in particular, just anywhere. Anywhere but here. He glanced down at Dean whose own eyes were wide. Sam had already run off. He was just waiting for his father to do it to. "Just in my room, Dean." He comforted. "I just need some time. I need to digest everything."

xxxOOOxxx

Dean didn't have to look far for his brother. He found the kid just sitting on the porch his eyes skyward, the damn dog curled at his side. Dean wasn't sure if his brother was forming shapes in the clouds, if he was looking up at the sky to see if Jess or his mother appeared, or if he was just too deep in thought. Either way Sam was very much so distracted. His little brother looked over after Dean shifted next to him.

"It's nice outside."

Dean nodded. A lighter topic was preferred. "Yeah. It is."

There was a lengthy bout of silence between them. Dean wasn't sure what to say. He would run a line through his head only to decide that it wasn't right. When he discovered that there would be no good option either way, he stated what he had wanted to say for days. "You should find a place nearby that will let you finish your law degree. Go become a lawyer, find a nice girl, and make me an uncle." Dean said softly his eyes captivated by the shifting clouds.

"No." Sam said firmly. "I can't go back to that. I tried and look where that got me."

Dean shifted uncomfortably. "Okay. What _do_ you want to do then?"

"Hunt." Sam ignored his brothers shocked look. "I hated it dude. I still do. It's just whenever I try to go down a normal path, _he_ trips me up. People end up hurt."

"What the demon does isn't your fault and you shouldn't go after revenge. Look what happened to dad."

"Not revenge. Hunting." Sam explained. "I already heard you guys. He wants me to get angry to feel like I'm alone. I don't feel alone, and I'm not overtaken by anger. I just want to protect people. If people are going to die _because_ of me." He hastily added. "Even if it isn't my fault. I want to save a few lives as well."

"You don't want revenge?"

Sam thought on it and shrugged. "Sure if we found the demon and plugged a few permanent holes in him, I wouldn't be opposed. But like I said, I think he wants me to get mad. When I'm calm I can control this-" Sam paused. "-this ability. When my emotions get the better of me they start to spiral out of control. I can't let him win, and he certainly hasn't won yet. I just want to be there for someone else."

Dean sighed and glanced back at the sky. "You know you aren't getting out there until all of us agree you are ready."

"I know." Sam half-heartedly chuckled. "All three of you are mother-hens in your way."

Dean grinned wide. "You are the Baby Winchester."

"You know I am taller than you. Or is your depth perception off?"

"You started out as a midget, and you've been shorter than me longer than you've been taller. Besides, you're the youngest. Automatically that makes you the baby."

"By four years." Sam nudged his brother's arm. "Do those extra four years give you more profound wisdom?"

Dean smirked. "You bet your britches."

"Okay then Mr. Wise Guy, give me some profound advice."

"Always use a condom dude. You don't want little mini, floppy haired, Sammies running around."

Sam laughed. Actually deep bellied laughed. "My life is richer already."

 **(Congrats, you've reached the end. Like it, then please leave a few words in a review or a PM. Have any ideas, or notice something off about the story, then do the same.)**


	8. Chapter Eight

**(Thank you Souless666 for the review. I really appreciate hearing what you have to say.)**

 **Chapter Eight**

 _It was too pretty a day to be inside. The sun was out and warm, and the breeze was cool. With no classes Sam and Jessica decided to go for a walk outside. They paced slowly through the park holding hands and occasionally stopping to steal a kiss. The ring he'd been holding for the "right time" burned in his pocket._

 _He went to reach for it, but stopped. Up ahead his 7_ _th_ _grade algebra teacher, Mr. Robinson, stood a wicked smile curving up his lips. When he widened his eyes they flashed and turned and eerie yellow. Despite the man looking sickly thin and exhausted Sam knew he was a threat though._

 _He shoved Jessica behind him._

" _Oh Sammy-boy." He sang out amused. "You can't protect her. You can't protect anyone."_

 _Sam flinched when the man in front of him disappeared and he felt hands on his shoulders. Not Jessica's slim manicured hands. Calloused boney hands slipped over his shoulder and into his peripheral vision. Sam inhaled sharply and spun around smacking the hand away from him. "Jess?"_

" _You can't protect anyone." His brother was now behind him, only it wasn't. His muscular, strong, and obnoxious big brother was painfully thin his eyes bleeding from the sockets. His shirt was off and Sam could see sharp lines of blood, and welts across his back and chest. His thin wrists were split open and an ungodly amount of blood was spilling from them. "Do your job, Sammy."_

" _Dean?" Sam reached for his brother but Dean stepped back fearfully._

" _Do your job, and everyone stays safe." Dean continued. "Do your job."_

" _My job?" Sam stuttered still bothered by the state of his brother._

" _Sammy!" Dean's voice became frantic as blood continued to pour from his wrists._

" _Dean?!"_

"Sammy!"

Sam inhaled sharply and sat up holding a hand to his chest. Where the bitch Constance had stabbed him throbbed. Sam glanced down at the bandage to see if it was bleeding but luckily his new skin was holding. Sam exhaled slowly and scrubbed a hand over his face.

"Hey, you okay?" Dean's voice snapped, as the lamp between their beds switched on. His big brother glanced worriedly at him. "You wouldn't wake up. Kept saying my name. I know I'm irresistible but that's kinda creepy dude. Especially since…"

Since Sam could see things happening before they happened…

His brother instantly regretted what he had started to say. He'd been doing that a lot, apologizing for saying things that came first nature, but wasn't quite the right time to say it. "Dude I'm-"

"Don't apologize. Your right. And no, it was not that kind of a dream. It was just a nightmare." Sam slipped his feet off the bed and bent down to grab the socks he'd taken off before bed. It was winter time, and Bobby's house was cold. Sam gripped his Stanford hoodie he kept on the post of his bed. It had been left behind on the last trip he'd taken to visit Bobby. He was grateful. Yes, it was sometimes a painful reminder of what he'd lost, but a sweet reminder of what he had once had.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to piece together those visions I had. Find out names and dates." Sam said his voice suddenly stripped of sleep.

Dean scowled. "Sam, you can do that in the morning. Why don't you-"

"Sleep?" Sam laughed bitterly. "I'm not tired. But you knock yourself out, Dean. Hope you dream of sugar plums and fairies. I know I haven't recently."

"Sam…"

"Just don't. I'm fine, Dean. The sooner I compile the list; the sooner I figure out what _this is,_ and what the rules are." Sam dramatically circled his hand around his head. "Get some sleep." Sam left his brother standing in the middle of their dimly lit room. He padded down the stairs softly careful to avoid the third to the last step. That one creaked loudly at the smallest motion. In the library he sat down and booted up the laptop he'd left in the room from the day before. He slipped a pad of legal paper from a precarious stack on Bobby's desk and a pen and sat down on the couch.

The first one to remember was easy. The man he'd first put a name and a face to had a huge scandal. Including when the bus he'd been going to prison after the trial somehow crashed on an empty stretch of highway, without anything in front of it, and the locks on _his_ chains had opened. Nobody had seen him since.

Jared Reed. He'd been an aspiring actor, until he'd shot his cheating wife and the other man. He'd played some small roles in a few TV shows. Emphasis on the _small_. He was mostly Man #2, or a first name only character who had one line as he was passing a latte to the main actor. If he hadn't been on TV before his case wouldn't have blown up like it did and Sam would have never caught the truth in his dreams. And disturbingly enough he was born in 1983.

Lily Baker was the next name he'd put down. Killed her girlfriend. He didn't know how, the woman just spasmed when poor Lily went to touch her bare arm and collapsed to the ground. Her girlfriend's heart stopped. As did the cab driver, poor Lily hadn't meant any of it. She had been petrified herself. She'd run and killed another; a taxi driver. No one had found her. Lily was born in 1983.

The others didn't come so easily. It took a lot of time and patience to hunt them down.

Maggie Maxwell, jumped off a bridge. He remembered feeling her terror as flames licked from her fingers, at the time he assumed she had them on fire and jumped to put herself out. Now he wasn't sure if it was her _ability_. Her body was found drifting miles up the shallow river. She had been born in 1983.

Connor Collins had been a liberal arts major in Massachusetts. He'd eaten his own gun. Born in 1983.

Then it got kind of weird.

Charlie Bonner. 55 year old man hiking in the woods, Black Water Ridge, Colorado to be exact. Sam saw him get smacked into the side of a tree and get knocked out. His body dragged away by…something quick. Rangers reported him missing. However, based off of the time, and the location Sam would have to assume that it was the case his father had worked. The Wendigo in Black Water. Seeing as he hadn't been born in 83' Sam did an extensive search on his family. Charlie Bonner did have a daughter, a Julie Bonner, however Julie was born in 1976. No cousins, or friends who had kids born 1983.

Then a little boy named Lucas Barr, in Lake Manitoc Wisconsin. He'd been the last in a series of strange drownings. Sam had seen the kid walk towards a peer at a lake and drag his hand timidly through the water. A small hand had pulled him in. The lake was drained for good after that. A sheriff in town was left with dead friends and family. No one amongst those deaths or their families were born 1983.

This broke the pattern.

He continued. Placing five more names on the side of the "Children", and one more on the side of the "Not Children." That left the count at 8 to 3. It made no sense dreaming about the _children_ was something understandable. They all had gifts given to them, and they must be linked somehow. But the other dreams, were just unfortunate people experiencing unfortunate things.

"So eleven visions so far…"

Sam jumped at the sound of his brother behind him. "Jesus, Dean. Don't do that."

"Are you sure there aren't more?" Dean questioned. He dragged another chair to Bobby's desk not caring to mask the noise. He dropped it next to Sam's backwards and mounted it so he could rest his arms on the back. "Maybe you didn't know what it was at the time?"

"Maybe, but these are the ones that I remember." Sam scrubbed a hand across his face. "I don't get it Dean. These seven were all born 1983, like me. Three of them had a house fire, and lost a parent." He tapped at a name he'd circled and underlined. "He lost both of his parents in the fire. And the other four have no record of a fire, both parents alive. These-" Sam tapped at the second list. "-don't even have a tie to anyone born in 1983. They just died in very supernatural ways. At least I assumed they died. Charlie wasn't exactly found. I don't think there was much to find."

"I don't know, Sammy." Dean glanced down the list at all the facts his brainy brother had compiled. "I wish when he gave you this he'd left some kind of manual. Like a possible off switch."

"What if this saves lives, Dean?" Sam glanced down at the little boy's name that he'd written. "What if, I see these things and I can stop them…"

Dean's mouth ticked downward. "And what if we walk into a trap? What if you start to _see_ just what he wants you to see?"

Sam didn't look up from the list of missing and dead. "I don't know..."

xxxOOOxxx

One second Sam was driving his fist towards Dean's gut, and the next his arm was grabbed and twisted. Just as quickly as he was looking at Dean, he was on his back looking up at the shifting clouds making shadows on the ground. Sam wasn't hurt, but the air did leave his lungs rapidly. He was left breathing in deeply on the ground.

Dean stood above him hands on his hips, and a smirk twisting his lips upward. When he saw his brother had collected his breath, he extended out a hand to him. "You used to be better…"

"Sorry." Sam grunted as he got to his feet with his brother's help. "Stanford didn't really have a fight club." He drooped down and put his hands to his knees as he inhaled deeply.

It had been a while. Last time his dad had watched over the two brother's as they sparred was just before the hunt. Then his father hadn't been too kind. Even Dean had jumped in to end the session, and get the kid inside to tend to bruises. Now, his father was sitting back letting Dean handle the lesson.

"He got tall." John offered from the porch. Both boys looked up. "Sam's center of gravity is different than when you first taught him."

Dean nodded. It was small, but John was doing his part not to be overbearing but helpful. He'd been doing that for the entire session just dropping helpful tips every now and again as he saw the opportunity. It was tough too. Sam was rusty. At twelve he'd decided that he wasn't going to be a hunter. Sure the kid had kept up his exercise routine, but his ability to fight was weak compared to his intelligence and endurance. Although the two would certainly help him hone his skill.

Dean squared off again and bobbed on the balls of his feet. "So your trying to get a man down with limited moves."

"Jab at the throat." Sam replied a little tiredly. They'd been at this a while, but this was what he wanted right. He wanted to hunt, and he knew that not only would the people he cared about not allow him to go out without knowing he could handle himself. He knew too, how stupid it was to go out unprepared. Unprepared meant that you ended up dead. At least that's what his father had instilled in all his training.

Sam crouched down and went to attack his brother only to have end up on his back again. It had been a while, but Sam couldn't ignore the ache from the holes in his chest left by Constance. He could no longer ignore the ache from his nearly healed burned skin as the tight skin stretched. Dean noticed that Sam wasn't collecting his breath as quickly. Bobby stood up from his chair ready to jump in and stop the session. Dean put a hand out and nodded.

"Let's call it a day, Sammy." Dean offered as he put down a hand.

Sam wheezed as he took his brother's hand. This time he groaned more as he tried to get up. Once vertical he wasn't so steady and Dean put out a hand to help. "I don't want to stop. I need to-"

Dean stopped his brother. "You need to rest. You run, and exercise, but fighting- fighting is pulling on all kinds of wounds right now. I want to check on them anyways."

"If I'm hunting I need to learn to fight through the pain." Sam panted.

"You're not hunting yet." Bobby stated firmly. He held open the back door to enforce the idea that they were done.

Just like Sam had predicted they were all cautious with him. Just like Dean, his _parents_ , Bobby and John, didn't find his revelation likable. Missouri before leaving had taken them to the side and given them a few harsh words. After she'd gone they'd agreed. Just like that.

Sam sighed and walked towards the opened door. He wasn't getting out there any quicker with needless arguing. "We can stop, but I don't need medical attention. Nothing tore." Not a lie, the skin was healed, it was just bruising and tender skin that remained.

"I'm looking at the wounds, Sammy. Whether you like it or not." Dean snapped as he followed Sam into the kitchen. "And you are eating."

Dean had seated his little brother and was midway on a grilled cheese when he felt his phone vibrate. Dean pulled out his flip phone and stilled at the name. "Dad, I need you to take over here." Dean called out to his father.

John looked up from his book on lore and looked like he wanted to argue; up until he saw his son's almost stricken face. "Yeah, I got it. What's wrong?"

"I just gotta take this." Dean held up his phone and using his other hand tossed the spatula to his father.

John didn't get the chance to ask. Sam was tugging on a new shirt after antibiotic cream had been rubbed on the wounds, and missed his brother's face but read his tone. Before he could pull his head through the hole and check on Dean, he was out the back door.

"Cassie." Dean stated smoothly when he had the door shut behind him and the call picked up.

" _You don't get to talk all smooth to me."_ She snarled from the other line.

So she had gotten his text. He'd sent the obscure _we need to talk_ text, then when that didn't get the call he was expecting he'd sent the _I don't think this is working out_ text.

"Look, I tried to speak to you and you refused to pick up your phone." Dean didn't take a tone with her, but part of him was mad. Mad that he had to do this. Mad that his lifestyle wouldn't allow for them to work out. Ever.

" _Because I knew what you would do. Dammit Dean, I know the whole long distance thing is hard, but- I still want this dammit. I know you do too."_

Dean shut his eyes. "I do." His tone was tense. He didn't know where this next part would go. He didn't want to see where this next part would go. She was a reporter, it was her job to find interesting stories and write them. But Cassie didn't see the world as it was, she always looked for similar patterns and placed them with _real world_ answers, not _correct_ answers. "I sent the reason, Cassie."

" _And I got it."_ She snarled again and all Dean could think was how much he was going to miss her. _"You think spouting some crazy ass story is going to make me break up with you. You know what? It fucking should, Dean. If you're willing to write a fictional story that far out there just to get me to leave, you obviously don't want me."_

"Look I'm sorry, but you need to listen to me first." Dean urged. To her credit she did stop and listen. "Things _do_ exist in this world. Bad things and I don't want you to get hurt. Only thing is I can't protect you from those things. Somethings out for our family, and it's already killed my mom, and my brother's girlfriend. I don't want you next. _Nobody_ can get close to us."

" _Screw you."_

Dean ignored that. "I need you to keep my number." He broke her sputtering and insisted. "No, you need to keep it. You are a reporter, Cassie. I need you to realize that if a story is out there, sometimes the answer is too. Look into legends and lore and match them to stories. Once you realize watch out for strange things happening around you. Strange deaths, sounds, or people. If you don't ever feel safe, call me. I will be there to help you out. I just need you to call me."

" _You know what Dean Winchester you can go fuck yourself."_

The call was ended. Dean was left listening to the dial tone. God she'd been fantastic. He'd been so sure that she was _the one_ too. But he couldn't risk her life. What Sam had said hit him hard. They couldn't have normal. They couldn't keep everyone safe. When he'd sent the text he knew he'd end a year long relationship. One where he'd made the drive to see her many times, and each time it was like no time had passed. He was relieved though. At least she'd be alive and pissed, and not dead.

"I'm sorry." Sam had slipped outside without him knowing, and overheard too much of the conversation. He wasn't sure how much was heard, but any was too much. The kid already blamed himself for so much, and he didn't need to blame himself for Dean's relationship ending. said quietly breaking him from his thoughts and pulling the phone away from his ear.

Dean wiped at moisture he wasn't aware had been collecting. "Hey, when did you sneak out here?" Dean tried immediately for humor.

"Dean…" Sam stated awkwardly.

"Don't. It's not your fault. It's not any of our fault." He finally ended the call and put the offending device in his pocket. "Besides, she wouldn't have believed me. I would have spent so much time lying to her, and the second I would have spoken the truth about all of this…" She would have cracked him in the face. Besides he was getting tired of lying next to a woman he was _lying_ to.

Sam remained quiet. Guilt reading very clearly on his expression.

"And it isn't your fault." Dean repeated. "It is dangerous to drag other people into our situation. However, we can be happy. I know that nothing we do will ever get Bobby away from us. And trust me we are annoying." He grinned wide. "Dad, he's always going to be there for us; misguided or not. And you and me; we always got each other's back. So it's not exactly perfect our little family, but we got it and it makes me happy."

"You don't want other things?" Sam asked his voice too small for someone his size. "You don't want normal things?"

"I don't know, Sam." Dean rolled his eyes. "I don't exactly see myself with a wife. Mowing the lawn. Helping a kid out with homework. I'd get tired of it, then I'd hurt whoever I'd brought in my life. No, I'm good. I am perfectly fine with what I got." He waved a dismissive hand. "Besides one bitch is enough."

"Jerk." Sam's tone picked up as he watched his brother push past him. The mood didn't improve any. It wasn't his fault. That's what everyone kept saying. Sam couldn't help but feel like it was. Things happened because of him, and that was just as bad. He sometimes figured that if he hadn't made it; the fire had consumed him like his mother had been consumed then a lot of people would be better off.

Dean looked back and saw his brother made no move to enter the kitchen again. Sam looked like someone had kicked him. Damn kid was probably kicking himself actually. Dean sighed and shot his arm through the door and jerked the surprised kid through the door way. "Stop it. I can see your gears turning, and you need to stop thinking so hard."

xxxOOOxxx

Sam was panting by the time he'd accomplished it but he'd done it. His brother was on the ground panting about as hard as he was. Sam had enough sense though to step back and avoid the foot his brother shot out to unbalance the taller Winchester.

Sam offered a hand to his big brother and helped pull him up.

"Not bad, runt." Dean praised his little brother out of breath.

"Not bad? I knocked you on your ass." Sam chuckled.

His humor left thought as he looked to his dad. This would be the part where John would put in his own two cents. John however shrugged and smiled. "Nice job, Sam." No comment on how sloppy the motion was, no statement on how he could improve. It was an honest to god complement. John didn't dish those out easily.

It had been a while that they'd been training Sam. He'd already gone on multiple "camping trips" where he'd been left on his own only to track where his father and brother were, and to shoot at them, with a paint gun if any of them jumped out of the foliage. He'd had the same lessons on weapons rehashed, where he'd passed easily. He kept up on the skill, even stopped by a few shooting ranges whenever he got time off in school. The only thing he was a little slow to learn was the hand to hand. He'd been knocked on his ass more times than he could count, but he'd gotten up and dealt with the twinges of pain and fatigue.

It was hard but Sam contained his excitement. However, as he looked at his father and brother their faces looked more thoughtful and worried than anything else. "You still are going to say no though." Sam's tone was a little bitter. "Geeze dad, at twelve you were shoving me towards hunts."

"It's been some time since then, Sam." John scowled. "I was in a darker place then. I just want to make sure that your ready."

"And how else is that going to be if I don't get out there?" Sam snapped. "You keep saying intuition is something I'm missing. How am I going to get that if I keep playing paint gun with you in the woods, or if Dean keeps knocking me on my ass at home?" John and Dean remained silent and only further angered Sam. "I know more about those things and their weaknesses than you two do."

Dean wasn't sure what to do, or what to say. Ten years ago Sam was fighting to not hunt. He would have done anything to avoid hunting, and now the kid was fighting _to_ hunt. He had completely changed his tune. Dean was petrified of what could happen to the kid when he did go out and hunt. He had been petrified when Sam was headed to his first hunt. The kid could have gotten hurt, and sure enough he did get hurt. When they were left with Bobby he thought that his little brother was finally going to leave this world behind.

The Sam in front of him with the bitch face was resolute. There wasn't anything he could do to keep the kid from hunting, the only thing he could do was make sure the kid was breathing and alive by the end of the hunt.

"We'll all discuss it later, Sam." Dean interjected finally between his tense father and brother. "It's not an easy topic. For any of us. Last thing we want is you hurt." He held up his hands when his brother squared off his shoulders in anger. "Which can happen anywhere. I know, same argument as before, dude. Just know that we want you with all limbs, brain function, and working lungs for a good long time. It would kill Bobby if we let you run off and hunt only to get _yourself_ killed." The _'and I love you and don't want you to die; ever'_ remained silent.

Sam deflated a little. "I got you."

"Good." Dean smirked. He opened his mouth to suggest lunch, but Bobby opened the back door.

The man's eyes searched out the yard until he spotted John. "Hey, John. You got a phone call."

"Who is it?" John padded back to the house. He scowled when Bobby smirked. "Who is- it isn't Missouri is it? What now? Did my dad disappear because he was a communist? Or was my mother actually a man, and she just shaved her legs and her face so frequently that I didn't realize?"

Inside John spotted the phone off the cradle and picked up phone from the counter. "What?" John blurted angrily. His face fell almost instantly. "Whoa whoa, what?"

Sam and Dean entered in time to see their father no longer angry, his face twisted in shock. Sam started to open his mouth in question but Dean put a hand to Sam's chests stopping the words. Sam looked to his brother in question but didn't demand any answers. He could tell from his father's face that another God-awful blow had been given.

"You have got to be kidding me Missouri!? Seriously, we left that place a long time ago. I promised-" John's shoulders tensed. "I promised my boy we'd never return. Not even if a pack of vampires were running free and snacking on anything with blood."

Dean's breath caught. He wasn't sure if he was referring to himself or Sam. For him though there were two places Dean refused to return to. Fort Douglas, Wisconsin; where he'd failed his brother all those years ago and nearly let him get killed because he was bored and wanted to play video games. The other was Lawrence, Kansas where he'd grown up for four years only to have his mother die and his home burned. Either one he didn't want to return to. And if he was referring to Sam, he didn't want to go there either.

"No I get that a woman and her children's life are in danger, but-" John shut his eyes actually shut his eyes as he listened to what Dean assumed was Missouri chewing him out on the other line. "No, I get it. Give me seven hours. I'll go alone-" John paused and scowled. "What?! Why?"

"Where dad?" Dean sighed knowing Missouri wanted them to join him.

John put the mouth piece away from his ear. "Lawrence."

Even Sam paused. He'd heard about Lawrence. He'd heard stories about the life Dean used to live; before they were driven around the country by revenge.

"It's okay. If it's important, I'll go." Dean didn't hesitate.

"It's not just Lawrence, Dean." John roughly told Missouri to hold on and put the phone down on the counter. "It's _our_ home. Apparently it's picked up an unwanted guest."

"Poltergeist?" Sam questioned. He swallowed when he got a nod. He wasn't emotionally attached to the home. Hell, he'd never really spent much time there. He had no memories of his own of that place. The ones he was worried about now was his father and his brother. They went through every ordeal. With the proverbial rug pulled out from all of them about his mother's identity, going home would be just another blow against the only two who were aware of the severity of the situation all those years ago.

Dean scrubbed a hand against his newly shaven face. "If it's going after a family, I don't care. No one else can die in that house."

John studied his son. He really didn't want to go. His body was now stiffened and his jaw tensed. The kid was willing to go however; he'd sacrifice his own feelings so that someone would live. So he'd do the same. He picked up the phone again and sighed. "We're coming."

 **(Liked it? Leave a review. Notice anything out of place or wrong? Have any ideas or concepts I may fit in? Then review or leave a PM.)**


	9. Chapter Nine

**(So yes, this is the episode 'Home,' but I will not drag out the story with it. Expect chapter 10 to be a continuation and after that it'll clear up. I have switched up a few of the facts to make it a little more different.**

 **Once again thank you to Souless666, I love hearing from you. And I agree, Sam did a few regrettable things when he had his abilities. Had his brother been a little more supportive, and a little more open to Sam using his powers, but for good things then maybe there wouldn't have been so many problems.)**

 **Chapter Nine**

They took the Impala. It was only fitting. That November they'd driven away from the home in it, now if they had to return why not in the same car. Dean was the same, sitting in the passenger seat while his dad took point at the wheel. Dean's jaw remained fixed and no words came out, just like that night. John remained quiet himself, only glancing at his son every now and again trying to find words, but disregarding them once they came. And Sam, well Sam was the only difference. That night the 6 month old wouldn't stop crying. Sam sat in the back quiet, now focused on the trees going by his window.

About four hours into the drive Sam finally was the one to break the silence. "After the fire, what happened?"

John turned away from the road to glance in the rear view mirror for a second. He caught his boy's hazel eyes. "We uh, went to go stay with a friend. We stayed with Mike, I worked with him before- before the fire. I honestly don't remember much about the stay." Because he was stone cold drunk. He'd let his four-year-old slip into silence, and tend to his youngest. He'd slipped into a similar depression that his youngest had once he'd lost his loved one.

Dean squirmed in his seat. Sam had cried, a lot. He'd pleaded repeatedly for his father to move and help him with Sammy. Then when his father didn't acknowledge him he'd shut away his words, saving them only for Sammy. He remembered waking up to Sammy's loud cry and curling up in the crib with him. Sam would go to sleep instantly once he'd felt his brother next to him. Then Miss Julie would come over and try and take Sammy away. " _Go outside and play._ " She'd tell the 4-year-old again and again. But Dean would hold Sam tighter and retreat away from them, only coming out when Sam was hungry. Dean looked down at his floor boards. "It was uneventful, nothing to remember."

John's hands tightened on the wheel. "I'm sorry, son." He'd said that a lot to Sam recently, except now it was directed towards Dean. He waited until Dean brought his head up and made a face. "Let me say this and we can end the moment, okay." He waited for Dean's soft amused snort before continuing. "I put a heavy load on you that day. I know you love Sam, and Sam before you misunderstand; you have never been a burden. But I should have been there for the both of you. You shouldn't have turned into the father; I should have been your father."

"You've been forgiven already." Dean gave his father a soft look. "We don't hate you for anything."

"I know, it's just. I never actually said those words to you. I am proud though. Everything I put you through and you still raised Sam to be a great kid." John cleared his throat. "Can you check where we are on the map, Ace?"

They all knew he didn't need directions, but once again the sentimental mood had turned things awkward. John was determined to fix that.

Dean unfolded the section of map he needed. "We're about four hours out, there is about two left. No turns for a while."

"Thanks." John stated his mask of indifference firmly back in place.

Sam glanced between the two men, and sighed. He settled into the cushions, crossed his arms and twisted his body so his head lay against the cold glass. It would be a long drive, and very clearly his brother and father weren't up for having a conversation. They hadn't even realized that the radio was off. Sam nudged his head against the glass and prepared himself for a long wait.

He shut his eyes against the glare of an on-coming car.

 _Then he wasn't in the car. He was standing at the front of a house. The home was simple enough. Two stories, with cream colored siding and a few steps leading up to the front door. A gnarly looking tree sat in the front yard and cast a disturbing shadow across the front of the house. He glanced around confused. How did he get here? Last he remembered he'd been riding in his brother's car._

 _Movement in one of the windows caught is attention. A woman was banging on the center window on the second floor. She looked straight at him as she pounded on the pane. Sam stood stunned. Was she trying to tell him to leave? Was he on her property and she didn't want him there? His answer came when she spun around fearfully and looked behind her before her face turned back to him, eyes wider._

 _Okay not mad at him. She was scared. He made a move to rush into the home but Dean gripped his shoulder. "Sam."_

 _Sam shook off the shoulder the best he could. She was in danger. "Sammy." His brother sounded irritated now._

"Sam!"

A hand smacked into Sam's cheek and Sam jerked out of his awkward sleeping position only to smack his head against the window. "Shit." Sam cursed sharply feeling blood pool in his mouth after biting down on his tongue. "What?"

Dean looked a little gleefully at Sam. "We're stopped at a gas station now, but we should be at Missouri's in a little. Dad want's you awake and ready."

Sam rubbed at his face and shifted in his seat. He opened the car door to spit out the blood. Half out of the car Sam groaned. "I was out of it that long?"

"Dude, you were sawing logs." Dean smirked.

Sam didn't mention the improvement in mood. He didn't want the mood to change any. He took note of the darkened sky instead and frowned. "She's still awake?"

"Woman reads freaking minds." Dean handed his brother a water bottle to wash out any remaining blood. "She called dad when we crossed into town. Knew we were here before we even did."

That was a lie. Sam could see the look of humor on his brother's face but read past that to see a strange combination of shock and sadness. The second they made it into Lawrence his father and brother had known, even without the sign. Sam himself wasn't as sensitive about his mother's death (not that he _didn't_ care). His father and brother had lived through it though, and any time they had driven into Kansas itself he'd see the tenseness of his family's shoulders. Driving into the very city, that must have been hell.

xxxOOOxxx

Missouri's home was a strange combination. On the one hand it was so feminine. Flowers at the table at the entrance, then she had delicate colors painted on the walls. She had paintings on the walls and they were an odd mixture of feminine colors and images of the occult. Wherever she'd found the paintings Sam figured it wasn't in some _Home and Garden_ magazine. Her living room was where she took in customers wasn't any different. Sweet and feminine, a few pieces of bone china sitting in a display case, along with artifacts Sam recognized to have Voodoo and Witchcraft background. Sam wondered just what Missouri was into.

Once seated on the very soft cream colored love chairs Missouri offered them warm beverages.

"Missouri…" John stated a little irritated.

"Okay fine." Missouri gripped. She ignored John and went straight for the tray on the table containing a three mugs and a pot of coffee. She poured out a cup, put some sugar and cream in, enough in fact that Sam liked, and handed Sam the mug. She put the warm cup in front of Sam and looked at him. "Sam should have some caffeine though. It helps with the headaches after a vision."

Sam stilled. A vision. When did he? Realization hit him. The dream in the car wasn't a dream it was another vision. He figured the headache he'd been sporting since was due to the sharp bang he'd received after his brother startled him. "So what I saw-?"

"A vision." She intently put the coffee in his hands and nudged his arm a little. "Drink, it'll help."

"Sam you had…you had a vision?" Dean repositioned himself in his seat so that he could give his brother a sharp glare. "What the hell did you see?"

Sam rolled his eyes, and regretted it when it pulsed more pain. "They don't always _feel_ like visions. I didn't realize that it was a vision until Missouri told me. How did you know anyways?"

"Oh honey, I've had enough of them to know the signs. And no, I don't know what you saw. Was it about the children?"

Sam took a sip. It was the right amount of heat; the right amount of sugar and milk. He didn't question how she knew; he'd stopped questioning Missouri's ability to know everything he needed or wanted before he did a long time ago. "It was a house. It had this weird twisted dead tree in front of it. A woman was inside. She was scared."

"Was she blond?" Missouri asked.

"Uh, yeah…she was." Sam frowned. "How did you know?"

John and Dean looked expectantly at the woman, and she sighed. "Because what you probably just saw was your home, Sam. Not in Sioux Falls, but where the fire happened those years ago. The woman is probably the woman that I've called you to help."

"Why us?" Sam questioned. "You clearly have enough knowledge to take care of this yourself."

"This spirit, poltergeist, inside your old home he isn't nice. I don't have the experience for something that. He's going to get angry very quickly. Besides, it's _your_ old home." She fixed the Winchesters with a firm glance. "Dealing with whatever is inside will give you some closure. Not the kind you want, but you might get something out of it."

John scowled and rubbed and hand across his face. "Could you be more cryptic?!"

"I imagine I could Johnathan Jeffrey Winchester." John snapped his mouth shut at the mention of his full name. Dean was going to use that against him for a long time, but then Missouri knew that. "Besides, I am not in charge of what information choses to expose itself. Sometimes I don't get facts sometime I get more questions, and place you can find the answers."

"Can you at least answer why _our_ home?" Dean leaned forward and went for some coffee himself. After he poured it he kicked himself once he saw Missouri's wide grin. That's why she had the extra cup out, because she knew that he would want it.

"Once your mother was attacked by the demon, it left a mark on the home. The attack was very dark and it left a kind of festering wound that attracts other darkness. Since I knew that it was a place that was marked, I've been watching it. A woman moved in about two weeks ago with her two kids, she's sweet. Went through an awful divorce, and has no other family to help. Poor thing didn't know when she moved in that there was an occupant already."

John nodded. "I get it, we are here to help, and we will. I gotta know though, does the mother know? Are we going to have to sneak in or has she asked for your help?"

Missouri considered his question. "She hasn't asked for help, she doesn't know what the thing is, she just knows that something weird is going on. If it continues through someone may get hurt. She and her babies are too sweet to get caught in the crossfire."

The Winchesters regarded their options. FBI wouldn't be so bad to portray, or they could be exterminators, or electricians. Offer a great deal and the woman pounce on it. After all poltergeists caused all kinds of problems with flickering lights, and scratching sounds. They even messed with the plumbing.

They thought long and hard that evening in their motel room, getting little to no sleep. It was a combination of stress over the thought of returning _home_ and figuring out how to prevent another tragedy from occurring. When the sun had come up and was sitting high in the sky they got in the car armed with badges as inspectors. Dean and John hesitated so Sam took charge and knocked. Before the mother made it to the door John gathered his own courage and went towards the front door. Only once the door had been opened and the mother peered around the door, the badges slipped out of Sam's mind.

"I am so sorry to bother you, this used to be our old home, and we just wanted to take a quick look around the place." Sam nudged his stunned father.

John gave his son a little of a glare, before turning to smile at the woman. "Yeah, uh…we were just driving by and realized how close we were to the old place."

The woman pursed her lips and studied the boys until she made it to John. Recognition crossed her face. "What are your names?"

"Winchester ma'am." John practically drawled. "John, and my boys Dean and Sam."

"Yes, I uh, found a box of your pictures in the basement just last night." She considered the men again before she opened the door. "I can grab it."

John stilled. _Pictures?_ He hadn't taken much away from the fire. All pictures he had leftover in his journal now came from friends who had felt sorry for him and returned all the framed Christmas photos they'd sent off with letters during the holidays. "I hadn't realized we had left anything behind."

She pushed the door wide and allowed them in. "Oh, it's in a very thick metal box. Very sturdy. Found it in the basement."

That made sense. The container was something that Mary's parents had. She'd recalled it being taken with her whenever they would travel, later they stuck pictures in it. His heart nearly dropped with the recollection. He'd found a bullet shell on the bottom of the box. When he'd asked she'd passed it off as a left over from a hunt. An angry burst fought to come out but john fought it back. Sure at the time he was easily duped, but he should have seen the signs afterwards. His wife was a hunter well before he was. He collected himself before he scared the woman.

She led them through the front hall and to the kitchen, all the while John and Dean kept glancing at all the changes that had been made. Not in layout. No they both could find the kitchen perfectly well in the dark. But pictures on the walls were different. Furniture had a much more modern and mixed style where her daughter was sitting at the table doing what the Winchester's assumed was homework, and a little boy was bouncing in a playpen off in the corner of the large kitchen.

"That's my little daughter Sairie, and my son Ritchie. He is a-" She paused and went to the fridge as the little boy started chanting repeatedly an unintelligible word. Sam figured the mom knew just what he was saying because she smiled and nodded at the boy. "-juice junkie." Now that he thought about it, it did sound like juice.

The mother slipped the latch back on the fridge, and John wondered just how protective parents were now. Years ago he'd let his son sit in the front seat of the Impala, no seat belt, no car seat, and he only got in trouble if Mary noticed. Now you couldn't leave the home without effectively locking your kid in some armed car seat. He guessed fridges were the next thing to child proof.

The little boy stopped jumping around once he was given a small juice box. Dean recalled his little brother being a big ball of energy like that too. The mother smiled down at her son and rubbed his head affectionately.

"These men, used to live in our home Sairie." Jenny said excitedly.

The little girl who had almost sullenly been doing her homework was now putting her head up and her eyes questioned the men instantly. "You lived here before? Did you _like it_?"

"Sairie." Her mother stated in a warning tone.

"No it's okay." Sam said quietly. He almost sensed her distress. "Homes change. If you have something to say…"

Jenny hastily tried to avoid the subject. "She thinks that there is something in the closet." She leaned down over her daughter and gave her a sharp kiss and rubbed at her unruly pony tail. "Which I check every night and there has been nothing yet, but we block it off with a chair and nothing has come out yet."

"No, mommy." Sairie tugged urgently at her mother's arm. "It moves the chair. It comes out."

Jenny tried not to be unsupportive but John could sense the parent getting irritated at her daughter. "Sairie. It's just a nightmare. Besides I'm sure they don't need to hear all the awful things about the house."

"No it's okay." John added hastily. "I mean, the home over time changes shifts."

"Oh, I know." Jenny gave a loud outburst and shrunk back a little once she realized what she had done. "I mean, no offense to your home. You probably have such great memories here, but I'm sure there are rat's in the basement. And it's- it's just getting old. Like the wiring. We've got flickering lights almost hourly. And the sinks backed up." She paused, and ran a shaking, stressed hand through her already messy hair. "I'm so sorry this isn't something you probably care about or want to hear."

Dean shook his head. "Oh no. Not a problem at all. In fact, I have some experience with wiring. I can take a look at anything you need."

"Oh, could you." Jenny burst out again. "I mean, my dad was great with engines and all things handy, but unfortunately I never picked up on that, and after the poor plumber there isn't going to be another person willing to look at the place."

"Plumber?" Sam questioned. "What happened with the plumber?"

Jenny got uncomfortable again. "I hired him, and I don't know what happened. I left the room, and he must have started the disposal system." She ran a hand through her hair, and watched as the men flinched at the implication. "I feel really bad for the guy I do, but we just moved and everything I had went into the home. There's really nobody to help, and I just can't afford to take this to court. Besides, I wasn't in the room. It was just a- a freak accident I guess." She trailed off. "If you don't want to-"

"No, no problem at all. Like you said freak accident." Dean dismissed it outwardly, but Sam could see his big brother's gears turning.

All of the men had their thoughts turning towards the case. Everything she said lead to a clear sign that there was something in the house, and it wanted to hurt people. It had already hurt someone. It wasn't the mother or her children, but it was still someone who ended up in the hospital none the less.

John and Dean started following the woman as she lead them down into the basement. She seemed to recall Sam wasn't joining them. He waved her to go on and joined Sairie at the table. Sam smiled at her and put all the trust and emotion he could in his eyes. It seemed to work because she continued on and didn't question Sam. The kid had been good at gaining peoples trust. John wished half the time he could bring his son with him just to get people off his back.

Sam leaned down and glanced at the girl's paper. "You need any help?" He watched the girl firmly shake her head. Her face was a full on pout, Sam figured he'd made more than a few of those faces at his family whenever he wasn't heard. "You know this one time, I was at a motel with my dad and my brother-"

Sairie wasn't over her pout and didn't look up.

"They left to- to go get food." Well to hunt, but that wasn't the kid's business. "Before that I had heard something strange coming from the room over. I told my dad that it was something scary, and he didn't believe me."

" _I'm not making this up dad. I heard something." Sam insisted firmly. His hair was still in a messy mop, and it bounced as he spoke with urgency. "Besides the man took that woman in there two days ago and none of them have come out yet."_

 _Dean zipped up the bag he'd stuffed full of bags. "Why are you spying on the people next door, besides they're probably having sex."_

" _Yes it's the normal sounds, but they stopped some time ago and no one has still left. Something weird is going on. Seriously."_

 _John scowled and looked over at Dean. The face clearly read irritation at the mention of the word, and Sam knew Dean would get an earful when they were driving to the hunt. "Sam, we have an actual hunt to do, we don't have time for a wild goose chase." His father shoved Dean out the door and slammed the door behind him, leaving Sam alone in the creepy motel room._

Sairie was now paying attention.

"And I _knew_ that something was up. That whatever was going on in the room wasn't good." Sam patted to his head. "I didn't know here." He then patted his chest. "I knew here. My gut was saying that something was wrong, but because I was so small and I was the little brother, I was just overreacting."

"What did you do?" Sairie asked.

"Well I went over into the room."

 _It had been an hour since the man had left. The man had not bothered checking out of the room and returning the key. He'd only rushed out the door locking it behind him and went straight to his car. When the car was long gone Sam had slipped out of his own room and went next door. Sam pulled out his lock pick set that his brother had given him for Christmas and started picking at the lock on the door_

"And?"

 _The naked woman was staring off at the ceiling with dull eyes, her face had dried tear tracks along her cheek. Sam was young still, but he knew what a dead body looked like when he saw it. The poor woman was tied to the bed using a combination of zip ties and rope, and gagged using something pink and lacey._

Sam later realized it had been her own underwear. "I found someone. She was- hurt. And I called my dad to help." John had been furious that Sam even looked, but when he'd seen the woman, his own gaze softened. Sam knew that he regretted not checking himself, then maybe his boy wouldn't have seen this horrible sight. "They apologized. They were sorry they didn't listen to me."

Sairie tapped her pencil on the table and bit at her lip. "Sometimes adults don't pay attention."

"I know." Sam said softly. "But adults, especially your parents, do care. They just don't want to think about you seeing bad things."

"It's real you know." She said firmly. "The thing in my closet."

"I believe you." Sam nodded solemnly. "What is it?"

She bit at her lip and considered Sam before continuing. "It's a person. It's shaped like a person, but it's on fire."

That threw Sam off. _On fire?_ The thing that killed their mother was a confirmed demon, why was there something in there that was on fire? "Does it hurt you?"

"No, it comes out of my closet and stands at my door." Sairie shook. "I don't know why. I tried asking it and it ignored me."

Sam put on a smile. "Well Sairie, my family and I, we help people with things like this."

"You stop monsters?"

"Yes." Sam kept his tone light. "I'll tell my dad and brother what you just told me, and we'll figure out what it is, and why it's trying to scare you. Just in the meantime, keep away from it. If it looks like it's coming over to hurt you go to your mom's room and say you had a nightmare."

Sairie nodded her eyes wide.

 **(As before if you liked it then please leave a comment.** **And for those who celebrate it, Happy Easter!)**


	10. Chapter Ten

**(Thank you Lenail125 for the review. And don't worry about it, I know that life has a funny way of keeping you busy. Be it work, or school, there is always something that demands more time from us. Once again the episode Home is featured, but I'm not dragging it out. It's until the end of the chapter then we're moving on.** **)**

 **Chapter Ten**

"Poltergeist for sure." Dean bit solidly into his burger. He waited until he chewed most of his bite before talking. "Nothing is wrong with the wiring, and no rats. Not even squirrels in the attic. All signs point to a spirt."

Sam stirred around the salad in front of him, and started to separate the chopped up veggies and order them. "Well, Missouri wouldn't have informed us that it was a poltergeist if she wasn't sure." He ignored his big brother's harsh glance as he didn't eat the food he'd ordered. "Besides, the kid's seen it. Place is being haunted by friggin' Johnny Storm. Using her words; it is human shaped and on fire."

Dean scowled. "That can't be right. I mean besides the fire years ago, there hasn't been another incident right?"

"Not that I can recall." John thought. When he'd purchase the house those years ago the realtor didn't say anything about fire's or homicides. "Unless the demon doesn't do it by himself. Maybe he has some kind of sidekick. Maybe it's some perverse team."

"I'm thinking it's just attracted to the home. I mean Missouri said that the home is a magnet for trouble. What if the spirit was attracted to the home _because_ of the fire?" Sam stabbed his fork into the food and left it there. Dean gave him another purposeful glare and Sam rolled his eyes before picking up the fork and taking a hearty bite. Sam's face turned serious as he chewed though. Sairie had shown Sam the room while her mother had been downstairs. On his way up the stairs he'd felt something _awful_ but the second he'd stepped inside the room he'd felt…safe. A wave of love nearly knocked him down. But how, and why?

"Earth to Sam." Dean waved his hand in front of Sam's face and Sam reeled back in his chair. "Hey, enjoy your trip?"

"Sorry." Sam awkwardly rubbed at his head. "Oh nothing. Just thinking."

John made a face and seemed to want more answers, but before he could ask Sam shook his head and said, "nothing important, just about the case."

"Well, then please enlighten us." Dean bit out. Something was puzzling Sam, and it was clearly bothering Sam on a much deeper level.

"For starters, how do we get them out of the house long enough to put the gris gris bags in?" Sam ticked up an eyebrow and played off his confusion with irritation. Dean looked startled. He evidently hadn't thought of that. "Yeah. I mean sure, she's invited us back in the home so we can _fix_ the houses problems, but is she really going to leave us _alone_ in the home long enough to put holes in her walls and put the bags in?" Nobody responded and Sam nodded before taking another bite. "Yeah, that problem."

John thought hard. "I don't know. She's skittish. She says that she's moved from Wichita to make a clean start, and I can tell whatever happened there wasn't good. It'll be a while before she'll trust anyone like that."

Sam's phone buzzed and he slipped it out of his pocket and frowned in confusion at the number that showed. Not one he recognized. "We could bring along Missouri. She gains a lot of peoples trust with the knowledge that she has." He pressed the accept button and brought it up to his face. "Hello?"

" _Sam!_ " The little girl's voice was panicked, and for a short while Sam was unable to place her. _"Are you Sam?"_

"Yeah, Sairie, you okay?" The discussion Sam spurred between his father and brother stopped as soon as it had started. Evidently he had left out to his family that he had left the girl his number in case there was an emergency.

The girl's voice didn't calm when he confirmed his identity. _"It hurt Richie."_

"Wait, wait. Is he okay?" Sam stood up instantly his hand going to his wallet and throwing down a few bills before motioning his family out of the diner. "You, and your mom okay?"

" _Mom took him upstairs to warm him up."_ Sairie wasn't making any sense.

Sam left the diner before his family and didn't head towards the car until he was sure his family had followed him. "Hey, what happened?"

" _I went to my room, and Mom left the kitchen. The latch was undone on his pen, and he wasn't anywhere."_ The girl wasn't taking any breaths between words. _"Mommy found him in the fridge."_

"Doesn't your fridge have a lock?" Sam asked slipping into the car, and put the phone away from his mouth to tersely tell his family to head back to the house.

" _Yes, it opened it."_

He didn't need to know what _it_ was. It was the spirit terrorizing the home. "We are on our way, Sairie. We're about fifteen minutes away and I will call you once we get there."

" _Okay."_ Her voice quivered. _"Please hurry."_

Sam punched out of the conversation first. "I don't know if Mom will be so opposed to the idea now. The thing undid the latch on his play pen, and the fridge. Trapped the boy in the fridge."

"The little girl called?" Dean questioned, his hand fumbling for a hand gun containing salt rounds.

"Yeah, before we left I gave her my number. She knows we're monster hunters." Sam stated his hand tapping at the glass on the car. He felt rather than saw the incredulous looks he was receiving. "Kids believe these things much more easily, and I didn't give her a detailed book on the different kind of things out there. Besides, she was scared. She needed to know that someone was on her side."

Dean practically growled. "No, you tell them something else."

"Like what, that they are crazy?" Sam ticked up an irritated eyebrow. "She already was ticked off that her mom didn't believe her. What was I supposed to do, laugh at her? Sometimes the younger ones are overlooked and whatever they have to say ignored. Kids have instinct too. _I_ had instincts as a kid. Remember Churchill?"

Dean and John remained quiet. They remembered. John had gotten a frantic call from his youngest about a dead woman. That he had been right something bad had been going on. The hunt had been abandoned temporarily to return to the motel only so that John could look into the lifeless eyes of the woman his son had been so worried about. Not a day went by that he wished his son had never seen that.

"We'll discuss this later." John pressed harder on the gas and high tailed it back to the home.

xxxOOOxxx

Once Jenny had opened the door she was frazzled, holding on to her son swaddled in blankets. Ritchie was still crying and Sairie was peering around her mother's leg to look at the men. There was a sharp sound of glass breaking and Jenny flinched.

"I uh- now's not a really good time."

John stuck out a calming hand. "We're here to help."

"Help?" Jenny bitterly laughed. "Uh, I actually don't need you to come fix anything anymore."

"No, there's something going on with the house, right. Something that isn't the plumbing and lights." Sam smiled reassuringly at the little girl then the woman. His dimples were on high power. Sam could tell she wanted to ask, but she didn't quite believe what was happening. At least not yet. Everything hadn't processed yet.

Dean was tired of dancing around the topic. "We know about the poltergeist. It's trying to hurt you and your family. We _can_ help."

Something else broke inside and Jenny shoved Sairie through and followed before closing the door. "I don't believe it myself. Isn't this the thing of horror stories. First Ritchie got stuck in a locked fridge, then things started flying around and breaking. I didn't touch them. None of us did. Then it." Her voice hitched. "It lifted me. No wires…nothing, just shut the door and tossed me back."

"Dean's right. We can help." Sam held up a bag that smelt strong of spices. "There are twelve of these. You take Sairie and Ritichie out to get some ice cream, and we stick these in your walls. By the time you come back everything is done. It's gone."

"How do I know you didn't rig something before you left?" Jenny's eyes suddenly blazed. "I left you alone with Sairie, maybe you planned for this."

Sairie tugged on her mom's pants. "I was with him. He says he can help mommy. Please let him help. It's the thing in my closet and I don't want it there anymore."

Jenny was still processing everything, but Sam knew it was too much. He went to his pocket and pulled out his wallet, freeing one of the hundred dollar bills he'd received when he emptied his old accounts. "Take Sairie and Ritchie and go to the movies, eat something, get ice cream. Go out and let us help you. When you get back we'll be done."

Sairie tugged on her mother again and she sighed. "Fine. I find anything missing."

"You won't." John assured her.

She looked back at the house and seemed a little worried. She didn't want to go back inside. "I'll need a sweater, shoes and socks for the kids and I, and my wallet and keys."

"We can get them." John nodded.

xxxOOOxxx

It was quiet. Sam didn't like that. The sounds of breaking glass had stopped when they had stepped in the home. John headed towards the basement, and Dean helped Sam go around the home to pick up the miscellaneous items Jenny had listed. Once handed off, they separated, Sam heading upstairs and Dean starting on the living room.

Sam really hoped that whoever it was in the home with them wouldn't cause any trouble. He'd experienced a _mild mannered_ spirit before. Caused no problems. He simply popped up and spooked grievers at the cemetery. When they had started digging up his body he'd retaliated. The _mild mannered_ sprit, started to throw things and fling his uncle around. With the poltergeist being as violent as it was, he wasn't sure what to expect.

On the path upstairs Sam's thoughts trailed. He imagined the woman he'd seen in all those pictures his father had shown him walking around the very halls with a very tiny him in her arms, and an innocent, four year old Dean tagging along behind. He imagined his father, without the sharp distinction of salt and pepper amongst his dark hair, and the woman kissing and laughing. Getting up to check on a fussy _him_ at early hours of the night. His younger father rushing down the stairs with Dean close after, a football firm in his father's calloused grips.

He wasn't sure if anything we was imagining was real. He wasn't sure if these sweet thoughts he was coming up with were actual memories that occurred in the home, or if the films of his youth had over dramatized the family dynamic he'd so dreamed of. All he knew was that if it had been real, it had all gone up in flames. Just like his own happily ever after.

No. He couldn't do this. Not now. He recalled one of his father's rules. The one he'd pounded in his son while he was training him to go on his first hunt all those years ago. _No emotion on a hunt_. He set his face. No emotion. He wouldn't break down. Not here not now.

He had a job.

First he headed towards the small bathroom. He felt a twinge of guilt before raising the hammer and giving it a good whack, created a hole in the newly painted wall. He fit the bag in and went the opposing side of the house where, he assumed the little boy slept. The room was overtaken by tracks for large plastic trucks and a strange square cartoon character. He assumed it was a sponge and it seemed annoying. He put another hole in the wall and popped the second little bag in.

Dean must have been done with his. The pounding downstairs had stopped. He headed towards the little girl's room his hands his hands instinctively tightening on the hammer and not too far away from the gun hooked through his belt. It had been quiet for far too long. The poltergeist hadn't retaliated yet. And Dean. Once Dean was finished downstairs, Sam half expected Dean to come tearing up the stairs. He was still very protective. After the fire and this being Sam's first _official_ hunt in a long time Sam was half expecting Dean to attach them by the hips. Be it super glue or needle and thread.

He gave a firm thump time around didn't care so much for the appearance of the hole. This just needed to get done, and preferably now. By the fourth hole Sam wasn't too concerned about appearance. He hovered his hammer on the wall in the mother's room just next to the spot he planned on putting the hole. In his peripheral vision he noticed the lamp starting to shift. Prepared for it to be flung he stopped.

"Sam! Move!"

Years of instinct had Sam rolling away before recognition of the command or the voice. It was Dean. Something sharp and silver whizzed by Sam's head and thunked firmly in the wall. Sam turned his head and recognized the small hatchet his brother had taken to put the holes in the wall. Between it sat a severed electric cord.

"It was going for your throat." Dean gripped the pistol he'd slipped in the waist of his pants and scanned the room. His other hand gripped a device that resembled a souped up Walkman and when he flicked it on it lit up and wailed. "It's still here, put in the last bag!" Dean nodded towards his brother.

Sam didn't wait to acknowledge the demand. He gave the wall a firm whack and popped in the final gris gris bag. He waited for a second adrenaline running through his veins and the shrill shriek of the strange device in his brother's hand echoing in his head. A brilliant light started from the final bag in the wall and it expanded out causing Sam and Dean to grunt and shut their eyes in shock. When Sam opened his eyes again save for a few spots in his vision he could see that everything had gone back to normal. The whine of the device had even stopped.

"It's gone." Dean breathed. "Jesus…he was a tricky bastard."

Heavy footsteps thudded up the stairs and stopped in the hallway. "Head count, boys."

"We're good." Sam grinned. "All limbs intact and still breathing."

John came into sight and he took in sight of both his boys. "Good. I take it we're clear."

"Yeah." Dean held up the device before switching it off and sticking it back in his pocket. "The EMF isn't reading anything."

"That's an EMF reader?" Sam pushed himself up. He scowled at the hole in the wall and the hatchet stuck under a hanging photograph, before turning back to his brother. "Looks like a Walkman…"

Dean shrugged. "Was a Walkman. Made a few modifications and now it tracks ghosts."

"It would have been nice if we had one for the other hunts." Sam muttered softly. (A/N-No joke, I was thinking about adding an EMF reader to this chapter then I thought, oh yeah I could have added that for the other two ghost hunts. Stupid me.) He walked over to the hatchet and plucked it from the wall. "We should clean up before Jenny comes home."

"As much as we can. The kitchen was wrecked." Dean rubbed at the back of his head feeling slightly guilty for the blades sticking out of her wall.

xxxOOOxxx

The gris gris bags had been placed, and the home cleaned up the best they could after the attacks the poltergeist planned against them. Jenny seemed more concerned that they were all safe. She even took the time to locate the pictures she'd found and give them to the family.

Driving away from the home was the best feeling Dean had. Only they weren't done. Sam wouldn't walk away from the home. John and Dean threatened to leave without him, but Sam remained resolute, he was going to make sure that they were really safe. He'd hitch back home if needed. So there they had been sitting across the street from their old home, waiting for…something. Sam's eyes pinned to the home, but Dean focused on the dark swirl of his coffee.

And if the kid wasn't right.

Sam hadn't explained he exited the car, and sharply called his brother's name. John and Dean jumped from their slumped over positions and followed the kid's line of vision. There was Jenny, franticly banging on the window, the curtain shifting around her.

"What the hell?" Dean cursed sharply exiting the car himself. He took towards the house at a run. "I thought it was over..."

John simply grunted and rushed forward keeping at his eldest son's ankles. "Apparently not."

Sam wasn't bothering with pleasantries before he kicked the door in and stormed inside. Besides furniture rattling and shifting he could hear the screams of the kids and mother upstairs. "Crap." He took the stairs two at a time careful to avoid anything flying at him. He reached Sairie's room first and kicked in the door again. The poor girl was curled up on her bed using her comforter as a shield as a spirit completely encased in flames slowly padded over to her. The girl was a mess of tears. Sam scooped up the child and pressed her to him, careful to avoid the flames as he slipped out.

John was already ushering out Jenny and Dean was exiting the little boy's room. Sam put the girl down and gave her a rough shove. "Go with Dean, Sairie." She looked reluctant but her eyes widened as Sam whipped out the rifle he'd belted before coming. "This is to protect against it, I need you to stay with Dean though."

The girl nodded and the brother's exchanged purposeful glances before Sairie nearly attached herself to Dean. Sam hung back and waited for his father to pass with Jenny in tow. He followed behind them all shooting occasionally at thing's the poltergeist would fling at them, and stopping the momentum of the object. Dean and the kids were out the door first, Jenny and John last, and Sam as he moved to follow found the door promptly slammed in front of him.

"Shit." Sam brought his hands up and stopped himself from hitting the door head on. "Crap." He ducked when a vase exploded over his head. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." Sam felt himself go down as something wrapped around his ankle and jerked back. He landed hard on his chest knocking the wind clear out of him. Then whatever was around his ankle pulled and he was being dragged back. Away from his weapon. "No!" He gasped breathless clambering for the gun.

xxxOOOxxx

Dean's heart stopped the second he heard the door slam. The little group still winded and frantic turned around only to find they were missing someone. "No! Sam!" Dean grunted and a little forcefully pushed the boy into his mother's arms.

John barely kept his cool as he pointed towards the yard and told them to get away from the home. His eyes were wild though and his body tense. He was anything but calm. Once John was certain that they were clear, he turned back towards his eldest who was busy slamming himself against the door.

"Keep at it. I'm getting the axe." John burst and he shot towards the car parked across the street.

xxxOOOxxx

They were trying to get him. Among all the noise of the shifting furniture Sam could hear the frantic pounding on the door. He was sure though that whatever this was didn't want his family inside, and was keeping a firm hold on the door. It would be a while before anyone was there to help him, and he was weaponless.

He wouldn't go down though. Not today. He kicked at the cord that was wrapped around his ankle dragging him into the dining room. Going with the motion he pushed his body up and bent at the waist to reach his blade tucked into his boot. A firm slice on the cord had him loose and he didn't let that go. He was up and dodging items. Grimly he noticed it was forcing him into the kitchen. The kitchen filled with countless sharp objects, and heavy things to hit him with, however he didn't want the dining room table to hit him either.

Suddenly he didn't have a choice. One second he had his feet firm on the ground and the next he was off of them flying through the doorway to the kitchen and smacking back first into the wooden cabinets. Once again the breath left his lungs. He didn't fall though like gravity dictated. He remained firmly pressed against the cabinet the wood and shards of plates digging into his back. The pressure intensified and Sam couldn't hold back a grunt. From his peripheral he noticed the knife drawer start to shift and pull open. _No…_ Sam fought to free himself but it didn't do any good.

" _No! Leave him."_

He had heard that voice before, only it wasn't a clear sound. It was an echo, like it had been heard in a dream, and he couldn't quite get the details correct. The flaming spirit entered the kitchen at a slow walk and positioned itself in front of Sam.

"SAM!" Dean crashed through shoving aside the dining table, the discarded pistol raised and ready.

"No! Wait." Sam called. "It's not doing it. It's stopping it."

Sure enough the drawer of knives had stopped wobbling in the presence of the spirit. Even Sam felt himself sliding down the hold keeping him up loosening.

Dean looked confused. "What?"

"You don't see her?" Sam cocked his head to the side looking through the flames to see the beginnings of curled blond hair, and a simple white nightgown. He'd seen her before. He'd heard that voice before. They had been in dreams or in pictures, but he knew her. "It's-"

John put a hand on Dean's shoulder. "It's your mother. It's Mary."

"Huh?" Dean squinted, but his face read recognition the longer he looked. "How- what?"

Sam heard less movement in the home now. Things were falling. "She was protecting Jenny and her kids. She was standing guard in Sairie's room…"

"Oh God…" John stepped forward. "I didn't know…If I had known-" John trembled at the sight of his wife. He didn't want to think it. He hadn't even considered it an option. He'd always figured his wife was in Heaven cursing his name, not cooped up in the very place she'd died. He even walked the place with Missouri that single time, and there had been no recognition from the older woman. "I never came back to check again; I was so sure you had gone to a better place."

" _Oh John."_ Mary sighed. She stepped forward her imaged now clear of any flames. She pressed a cold hand to John's face and he bent his head down in response, melting in her hold. _"It's not your fault. You didn't know. You didn't know a lot."_

"God, I love you Mary. I miss you every day."

" _I love you too John."_ She pressed a kiss to his lips and released the hold on his cheek. _"Dean, you did good."_ Dean was crying now. Although Sam knew he'd never get his brother to admit it later.

"Mom." The gun tumbled from his hand.

" _I'm proud of you. You kept everyone together."_

"Of course." Dean's voice cracked.

" _Sam."_ She turned her head towards Sam and her expression turned guilty. _"I'm sorry."_

Sam was stunned. He pressed a hand to his cheek when he felt something wet; he was crying too. "For what?"

" _For the deal. It's my fault."_ She now looked at everyone. _"It's all my fault, boys."_ She turned her head upward at the shaking light.

"Mom?" Sam stuttered. "What deal?"

" _I invited him in."_ She looked determinedly at Sam. _"I couldn't stop that night but I can help you now. I love you all."_ Before any more questions could be asked she stepped forward and glared up at the ceiling. _"Now, get out of my house."_

She erupted into flames again, this time they grew brighter. John and Dean turned away, and Sam shut and shielded his eyes from the bright light. When it had stopped they blinked tears and dots out of their vision. Sam was the first to speak.

"Now everything's gone. Even mom."

 **(Soo, you've reached the end? Well leave a review, or give me a PM.)**


	11. Chapter Eleven

**(Thank you my lovely guest and Lenail125 for the reviews.)**

 **Chapter Eleven**

The second Dean parked the Impala in front of Bobby's home his father had slipped out. Sam and Dean exchanged glances and their shoulders drooped. He was going to run. Their father had been good so far staying with everyone, but for sure he'd be gone by the end of the day. Sure enough after about an hour of silence from John's room, Sam opened his father's door to find everything cleaned up and a quickly scrawled note on the bed saying he'd be back. The jerk had even slipped out the window so no one would see him go.

They could have been mad. Curse and shout. Cry and scream. They could have punched at walls, but they knew better. This was how their father dealt with things, and once he was through thinking everything through he'd be back. He always returned.

To be honest Sam wanted to go too. He needed time to himself. He wanted to pull on a pair of sweats and work off whatever was eating at him. Instead he found Dean on the back porch and offered his older brother a beer.

"Where the hell did you find those?" Dean blurted more angry than grateful.

Sam shrugged. "Basement. They're warm, but…It'll help. Maybe not me, but you."

Dean looked at Sam. His brother's muscles were bunched, and his fist curled around the neck of the bottle a little more than needed. Sam was tamping down his own needs for him; so he reached up and took the offered beer without griping. "No run?"

"One of us already has." Sam said coolly. It wasn't meant to be offensive against their father, just fact. "I don't think you need me to go running off as well."

"Thanks." Dean stated his eyes staring off into the lot.

The one word was for everything. For staying, for the beer, and for just being there not saying a word. Dean didn't talk, he thought things through until everything he was thinking about meshed together in one jumbled thought. When he felt up to it he'd casually talk to Sam and figure out where his head was at. As much as he didn't like to talk though he hated being alone much more. He'd recalled sleepless nights for both Bobby and him. Ones where no words were spoken, just Bobby reading at the table, and Dean staring into a cup of coffee. Or nights where Sam and him would sit on the couch and _watch_ stupid diamond infomercials on the crappy, yellow splotched TV.

"No problem." Sam patted the spot between them and Buddy, coming back from his patrols lolled his tongue and sat between the brothers. His head rested on Sam's legs, but Dean reached out absently and ruffled the fur on the dog.

"I'll need to hide the beer again." Dean finally blurted after sitting there for about thirty minutes with his hand tangled in the dog's hair.

Sam shrugged. "If you think you need to." Sam had long since drained his, but hadn't gone back for another. "You know you don't need to hide anything anymore. Besides, I'd like to know that you trust me with a razor, and common household drugs."

"We were-"

"I know." Sam stopped his brother. "And thanks, but I'm good now. Well- I'm a lot better at least."

Bobby came home an hour later and found the boys just sitting on the back porch looking morose. He eyed the bottles of beer and raised an eyebrow at Dean who firmly shook his head. _Not now._ Bobby shrugged but the look on face was a clear warning that he was going to find out eventually.

"I'll make dinner." Bobby griped. He turned back into the home his complaint muffled through the door. "I work hard on cars all day and I come home to you two loafing around."

Sam smirked. The old man didn't mean it. He just liked to gripe.

xxxOOOxxx

It was midnight and Sam couldn't sleep. He was staring up at the ceiling. For a long time he couldn't; he either slept on his side or on his chest his face buried into the pillow. He was too afraid to see anyone that he cared about on the ceiling. For a week after the incident Sam kept seeing his mother and his girlfriend keep switching off. Then it got worse. Suddenly it was Dean. Dean actually screaming as he became pinned; blood dripping from his opened mouth as he wailed. Every now and again Bobby and John took a turn being tortured in his nightmares.

No, he couldn't think of it. Change the topic. Change whatever was going on in his head. The next obvious bad thought turned to his mother. So many lies. So many questions. Who was she? What was she really like? He knew that was torturing his big brother.

"You think she did it?" He didn't look over but he knew his brother was still awake on the bed next to him.

"Did what?" Despite the drowsiness in his tone Sam knew that Dean knew exactly what he was talking about.

"Make a deal. With the demon…" Sam kept his tone light.

"No!" Dean blurted. "Of course not, besides crossroad demons want to give you an X number of years before they take off with your soul; not slip into the baby's room and cause fires."

"Maybe it wasn't a crossroad demon…"

"Sam!" Dean rolled over and propped himself up on his elbow.

"What if it was for a good reason?"

"What good reason does anyone have to make a deal with a demon?" Dean scowled at Sam even though his little brother wasn't looking in his direction. "Besides she didn't mean it."

"How do you know?" Sam turned to look at Dean. "Besides she clearly said-"

Dean sat up. "She sacrificed herself for us back there Sammy. Don't go painting her in a bad light."

"Not all deals are made to get guitar skills, or get revenge." Sam looked purposefully at his brother. "Sometimes a loved one is sick and won't make it, and they don't think things through before-"

"Well mom would have thought things through." Dean snapped. "She always did. She didn't make a choice without thinking really long and hard on it, so she didn't make a deal."

"Or she made a deal for a good reason." Sam laid back down. "I wouldn't hate her for it, I just want to know."

"Nothing to know Sammy. Goodnight," Dean went back down on the bed but rolled so he faced the wall. His eyes were wide though and his breathing didn't slow. _What if his mother had made a deal? What if-_ _No._ Now Sam was just getting to him.

xxxOOOxxx

It was early. Way too early. Dean had finally dozed off only feel his brother missing. He wasn't sure when his brother had slipped out, but he pushed himself out of bed to go find the kid. He had felt some guilt afterwards at the way he'd snapped at Sam. The kid being the giant brain he was, was just trying to think things out. Piece together possible options. And he had just snapped. He knew he glorified his mother as this angelic woman who was perfect in every way, but Sam was right. Their mother was a human being. She was a hunter. And in the right situation she possibly could have done something as stupid as make a deal. Dean wasn't going to admit out loud that it was a possibility.

He'd found his kid brother dozed off again his face smashed up against the keyboard of Bobby's laptop. One step into the room though and Sam shot up with a snort, glancing around and muttering.

"Hey chill out there." Dean smirked and held up his hands. "I come in peace."

"What are you doing awake?" Sam smoothed down his hair, and wiped at the edges of his mouth to clear off any drool. "You were sleeping."

Dean shrugged. "Was sleeping. Then I noticed your gigantic ass missing from your bed."

Sam didn't react to the humor. "I wasn't trying to antagonize you earlier. I just- I don't know…I just need to know…"

"I know." Dean said softly. He dropped into the chair in the corner not bothering to move it. "You have the imprint of the keyboard on your face."

Sam moved a hand up to do something but stopped. "I can hardly help it now…" Sam's face lit up in curiosity. "Hey Dean, what was she like? I mean, you've discussed her before, but it's always general things. Do you remember what she was really like though?"

"I was four." Dean shrugged.

"I was six months."

"I dunno, Sam." Dean sighed, he raked a hand across his face. "She was nice, when she wasn't snapping at dad for things. Everyday I'd wake up and get into bed with her." Dean relaxed and his face shed years off in a moment of remembrance. "Dad was always gone by then. Off to work. Mom and I would stay in bed and she'd talk to me, sometimes read. When I was sick she'd always make alphabet soup. She'd get some too and make me pronounce the letters, give her words that began with them and spell silly words. Those were some of my first spelling lessons." His lips twitched up in a smile. "They would have occasional date nights, and she'd ask me for her help. She'd hold up three dresses. I always went for the colorful ones. It didn't matter what she wore, she was always pretty."

"She was beautiful." Sam said. His hand went to pick up a framed photo that he'd place next to the computer. The kid had found it among the other pictures. It was all four of them; crammed together to fit in the frame of the picture. "I mean I always thought she was pretty but-" He'd only seen her in photos. He'd only seen her terror filled face in dreams. But there in the home she was amazing in every way. From the way she'd held herself, the way she spoke, the way her eyes were lit up, and the way she was brave enough to save her family. His mother really had been beautiful from the inside out.

"You know she loved you." Dean chuckled. "She always complained that you were going to be a big baby when you were still in her belly…if she only knew how correct she was." Dean chuckled and crumpled a page off a note pad and bulls-eyed Sam on the forehead.

Sam scowled. "Jerk."

"The second I stepped into the room and Dad lifted me up on the bed with her she looked up at me and introduce me as your big brother. Man her eyes were crazy lit up. She was exhausted, but she was so happy. When we got you home, she showed you off like crazy. And everyone swooned. You had a way with puppy dog eyes long before you were damn aware of them."

Sam remained quiet, his eyes going back to the picture.

Dean didn't stop. "She figured you were going to be smart. You did everything fast. You started crawling before she expected it. She'd put you down and the next second she'd panic because you had slipped away. She always told me that you had such intelligence in your face. I would laugh it off, but she would say that you would examine everything around you. In every new setting you would get quiet and just look at everything. She was so sure you were going to be some brain."

"And then she died…for me." Sam scowled and ran a hand through his hair. "She died because something was coming after children. If she hadn't responded to my crying…"

"Yeah, she died, but you saw what she did in the house. Mom- mom sacrificed everything for everyone. For dad, for me, and for you. If it came down it and she had a second chance at that night, she'd go right back into the nursery and try to save your diaper butt." Dean chuckled but it didn't sound quite so happy. "She- she would do it again in a heartbeat. She was so loving and stubborn like that."

Dean finally slipped into silence, his words had run out.

"I bet she made it to a better place. Whatever that is." Sam believed in a Heaven, and he believed in God. The rules and the technicalities of it he wasn't quite so sure about. It was tough having faith when your dad went around shooting demons, and monsters in the face. The fact that the things of darkness existed, and that so many deaths were caused by such things put so many doubts and questions out there. Whatever the rules of Heaven though he bet his mother made it.

"She was too good not to." Dean agreed softly.

xxxOOOxxx

The moon cast a soft glow on the country side. John dug through his pockets before entering a long standing empty home. The cobwebs he'd cleared earlier that morning from the interior said that the for sale sign out front had been up there entirely too long. As he kicked the door behind him he waved the flask of holy water he'd fished out.

"Oh yeah. Now I'm really scared, Winchester." A dry voice spoke from the center of the empty living room. Bound to a chair in the center of a devil's trap, painted on both celling and floor, was a young man. He was about his boy's ages, except his eyes held more years. A symbol painted in blood sat along the pale underside of the demon's arm, kept the demon trapped effectively in the man. "I've never seen holy water before."

Long shadows flickered and shifted as the candles John had lit in the home to illuminate the otherwise electricity and water deprived home, shifted and moved with the drafts. John didn't worry though. The place was remote and perfect. "I have a few questions for you."

The demon sighed dramatically. "And I thought I was here for some sexy time. Figured all of this was just some kinky foreplay." The demon gave a snort when he saw that John wasn't amused. "What? You are kind of a big deal down there Winchester. You and your offspring. I get with you, and I have total bragging rights."

"Enough."

"Or are you here about your piss poor wife?" The demon chuckled.

John's jaw twitched.

"Oohh, you are." The man shook back his hair from his eyes. A clear pout visible in his dark gaze. "All you sexy hunters are so…heterosexual."

John shook out some of the water in his flask and didn't make a face as the demon gasped and tried to shift away from the water. He was tied down good though so he couldn't move an inch. "I've met quite a few of you cockroaches…never known one of you to be so- so gay."

"What can I say, Hell is a few steps ahead of the human race. Nobody down there cares if you like men, women-" He leered forward. "Both…so long as you do your job. Now if we could get some A/C down there it would be Heavenly."

"I'm not taking down requests." John scowled. "I need to know about a possible deal."

The demon despite his smoking skin laughed. "Oh please. I am protected by contract to not disclose any details. I start blabbing and no one trusts me."

John shut his eyes and shook his head. He was a demon; no one should be trusting him. "I need to know about-"

"Mary Campbell? That piss poor wife of yours." The demon tilted his head up in thought. "Doesn't ring a bell, although I can tell you by the end she was getting some grays. The stress of single parenting a four-year old, a baby, and a pathetic drunk must have done one hell of a number on her."

"About a deal…" John ground out. He didn't need to be reminded how trying he had been at the time.

"You don't listen very well. I don't disclose personal information, and even if I wanted to I wouldn't share those delicious details."

John twitched his lips up and dragged a knife out of his belt. It was wicked looking with a simple wooden handle and a serrated blade. "No you didn't hear me."

"Where did you get that?" For the first time since he'd knocked the demon out, bound it, tied it to the chair, and painted the symbol on the underbelly of its arm; John hadn't seen the demon look so scared. "That doesn't belong to you."

"It does now." John turned the knife in his hands effectively showing the details and instilling more fear in the demon's dark gaze. "You see I was torturing another demon this one time and after I had banished it I went through its belongings. At first I took it because-" John held up the blade in front of his captive's face. The demon flinched away. "Well look at it. It's a pretty sturdy blade. You don't run into knives like these on a regular basis. Imagine my surprise when I pulled it out to defend myself from a demon and it _kills_ the demon. You see all you have to do is stab the knife anywhere on the body and a little flicker of electricity goes through you, and _bam_ your dead."

John trailed the blade on the demon's ear. The demon shivered as the metal made contact. "I mean technically you are already dead. When I mean dead-"

"I know." The demon snapped.

"So you see where this is going. Good. Now let me repeat myself. Was there a deal, with a Mary Campbell or a Mary Winchester?" The demon gave John a glare. "You can take your time and think on the details, but I will warn you, I tend to get a little impatient when I am made to wait."

"I already told you." The demon gritted his teeth and kept his gaze firmly on the blade. "We have a non-disclosure agreement. I start chatting I end up dead anyway."

"That's what she said." John shrugged. He shifted to a little closet in the hall and pulled out the body of an older woman. Her wound had long since stopped bleeding. "I figured I would get a second opinion. Never hurts to check."

"So why should I talk?"

"Well, I figure you have two options." John looked thoughtful. "You have door number one which is you don't tell me anything and I send your ass back to hell." John didn't miss the demon flinch at the thought. "I don't think you want that though. As kinky as the torture might be, I figure that's not the kind of foreplay you're looking for. Then there's door number two which is you tell me what you want to know and the death is quick and relatively painless. One stab."

"Might as well send me back then." The demon looked a little relieved. "I haven't told you anything."

"Oh, but you have." John smirked. "You just confirmed that my wife _had_ made a deal."

The demon thought back and blanched. John could see the gears running in its head.

"Every demon that I torture now, well I have one less question for them now. I don't know how Yellow Eyes is going to feel about that. How do you think he'll feel?" John watched the fight leave the demon. "So, let's go back to the two options."

The demon remained silent as he thought through everything. "And you'll kill me? You'll run me through."

"Give me the information and I stab you." John's lips twitched up. "Do we have a deal?"

The demon scowled at the reference. "It was in the 1970's. She made a deal with-" The demon stopped and flinched. "She made a deal for you."

"For me?" John's mind swam with the thought, in the back of his mind though he tucked away the fact the demon had stopped at just who had made the deal. "Why?"

The demon snorted. "She loved you."

"Why did she make the deal?" John demanded. "What were the parameters?"

The demon hesitated. "You had, died. Her father was possessed and interrupted your steamy night. When you went to defend her from her father, he snapped your neck. Your wife was beside herself. She panicked, when Az- when the demon offered the deal she initially declined, but when she realized her soul wasn't on the line she thought better."

John's eyes lit up. He remembered that night. He'd blacked out and woken up with a crying Mary holding on to him tight, and her father dead. He had been stabbed. At the time John was too worried about her to think about where she had gotten the knife. He didn't think too much about how her mother was conveniently dead as well. "What was the deal? What did she promise?"

"He wanted permission to enter her home years later."

John inhaled sharply. The night she'd died. The night of the fire. He thought back to his wife's shimmery form as she stood before her husband and grown sons. _"I invited him in. I couldn't stop that night."_ She had given the demon the green light to enter his son's bedroom. "Did she know? What did he do that night?"

"That wasn't a part of the deal that night." The demon lamely stalled.

"Tell me." John snapped.

The demon leered forward. "I don't know if you intend to honor your deal or not. I get sent back to hell anyways and yes, I get tortured and killed. I tell you that and I would wish I was killed."

John collected himself. He wouldn't get that from the demon. He'd be stubbornly quiet. "Very well, you've told me everything then?"

"Yes."

"One last question?" John asked. "Who was the deal made with?"

A bitter laugh came from the demon. "Once again…I tell you-"

"And you'd wish death upon yourself." John nodded. "Let me tell you this, I'll kill you. Only because you've been so nice and told me already." John flicked the blade in his hand. "Azazel." John smirked. He hadn't missed the fact that the demon had started with the dealer's name, and cataloged his violent reaction when he mentioned it out loud. "The Scapegoat."

"How-?"

"You just confirmed that I was correct…" In one motion John stabbed the knife forward into the man's chest and red electricity shot through the wound and trailed through the body. A single shudder went through the demon and his head lolled forward the young man's eyes now open and dead.

 **(If you maybe liked it then leave a review or drop me a PM. Love hearing from you about how I'm doing. And once again, you got any ideas I'll see if I can fit them in.)**


	12. Chapter Twelve

**(Thank you to Lenail125 and Souless666 for the reviews. You guys are great.)**

 **Chapter Twelve**

" _You need any help?" Sam asked casually as he entered the garage._

 _His dad leaned over the hood of his massive truck oil stains on his face, arms, and shirt. The sound of Sam's voice however John stood up and looked over; a little surprised at the offer. "You figured out how to work engines?"_

" _I know enough." Sam shrugged. "Between Dean, you, and Bobby I picked up on more than a few things."_

 _John chuckled. "No offense, but I don't think it's enough that I would feel comfortable." John went to go lean back in but froze. "Actually, I can show you a few things."_

" _Sure." Sam agreed instantly. He always hungered for more knowledge. Plus, he didn't get a whole lot of alone time with his father. "Teach away."_

 _John gestured Sam over and smiled. Before Sam reached him he bent back over his entire half of his body under the hood. "Okay, she wasn't starting this morning, so I checked-" John's lesson was over as soon as it started when the hood of the truck closed and John gave a grunt. His father's legs kicked at the air, and blood and oil dripped from underneath the car. Sam rushed forward, his face paled when could hear the engine start on the car._

" _Dad!" Sam was a reach away from getting to his father when a hand pulled him back and turned him around._

 _Mr. Robinson stood before him, eyes glowing yellow and a stern look on his face. "Do your job."_

" _What are you doing?" Sam snapped. "Let him go."_

" _They will all live, if you do your job. If you don't I will have to force my hand." His old teacher's nails were long and yellow, and they created crescent shaped marks on his arm as they pressed down. The more he pressed the skin broke and blood spilled from the wounds. Too much blood._

" _Stop it!" Sam turned back to look at his father and found his father still. In desperation he tried to jerrk his arm back but the demon's hold remained. "You've- you've killed him." Sam held off again. He'd seen everyone he loved die so many times, and in so many horrifying manners._

" _Do your job." Yellow-Eyes was glaring furiously at Sam. He pressed a gun into Sam's hand and released his arm._

 _Sam stared down at the weapon in his hand, before tossing it onto the small pool of blood forming at his feet. He glared daggers at the demon stepping back from him and the weapon. "No, I won't do your job. Whatever it is. I refuse."_

" _Do your job." The demon moved forward and an impossible speed and gripped Sam's chin. No matter what Sam couldn't get the hand off. "You have the blood to do it. You are the vessel to do it. Before you force me to choose a champion, make the smart choice and just do the job." His voice softened, and Sam gagged as a hand petted down Sam's hair. "After all you are my favorite. You have everything going for you."_

" _What are you talking about?! Let me go!"_

"LET ME GO!" Sam shot up in bed. His bed was soaked with sweat, and his breathing escalated to short puffs. He raised a shaky hand to push back damp hair from his eyes.

"Sam?!" Thundering footsteps echoed in Sam's head and got louder with each second. Soon they were outside the door and it was being thrown open. It was his brother. In his panic Sam hadn't even realized that his brother wasn't even in the room. He must have been downstairs watching some crap TV. Dean quickly glanced at Sam, then scanned the room for threats. He finally rested his eyes on his brother again once he didn't see anything. "Sam, you okay?"

"Yeah." Sam knees knocked together as he pulled back sheets and dangled his legs off the bed. "I'm-" The image of his father limp in the hood of the truck assaulted him. The image of a starved Dean, Bobby hanging by the neck from a meat hook, his father his hands and feet severed and bleeding out, Dean falling from a cliff, Bobby getting shot; they all showed one after the other in his head. Soon his mind was a mess of bloody faces, and pleading cries. Sam felt his throat constrict and his face went green. "I'm- Oh God Dean- I'm gonna-"

"Shit."

Sam didn't ask for it, but Dean pressed the plastic laundry basket under Sam's head just as he leaned forward and gagged. Dinner from that night burned as it returned the way it came. Dean simultaneously held Sam up, managing to rub circles on Sam's back, and kept the bin tucked under his convulsing head. Dean alternated through giving Sam words of comfort and telling him to breath, to yelling through the open door for Bobby. Unbidden tears pooled at the edges of Sam's eyes and rolled downward when too much had collected. He hated crying. He hated being sick. God this was humiliating. Then when Sam had nothing left he dry heaved, inhaling desperately when he was able. Through his tear hazy vision Sam was painfully aware that every single piece of clothing he and his brother had tossed in the bin was now covered in his vomit.

Sam wasn't sure how long he'd been bent over the basket when he inhaled sharply and finally felt his chest relax. He pressed a hand to his painful chest and wheezed.

"You okay, boy? Bobby's hand was pressing a glass of water into Sam's hand.

Sam had to force himself to take some long breaths before he was able to even lift the cup up by himself. "Uh, yeah." Sam took a swallow and swished it through his mouth before swallowing and shivering at the awful taste going back down. "I'm-" Sam looked up and saw his brother in a pair of sweats and an old Metallica shirt, whereas Bobby was wearing a pair of Santa Boxers. "You haven't thrown those out yet?"

"Well, if you boys didn't wake me up in the middle of the damn night I won't have to show off my shorts." Bobby gripped, but he continued to look down at Sam, worry clear in his eyes. When Sam didn't continue drinking he tapped the bottom of the glass in the kid's hand. "Keep at it. You'll dehydrate."

"I'm fine." Sam kept his other shaking hand gripped in the tangled sheets to hide the tremor.

"Yeah," Dean's tone was dark as he took in the sight of his brother. "Perfectly fine."

"Dean-"

Dean finally released his hold on the plastic laundry bin unmindful of the clothes that had been inside. "Not gonna work little brother. I want to know what it was that bothered you."

"Just a dream…"

"No it is not." Dean growled. He locked eyes with his little brother, and grabbed up the shaking hand. He held it up so that it was within Sam's line of vision. "You're shaking. You've just finished throwing up all over our clothes, and I'm pretty sure that was all part of some major panic attack. I've remained silent but no more. What are those dreams?"

"Nothing." Sam shrugged. "Besides they-"

"No. I wake up to the sound of your panicked voice. Your begging someone to stop. Sometimes you want them to leave someone alone. You've once muttered ' _you've killed him.'_ Those aren't normal dreams, and if they were visions then you would tell us."

Sam scrunched up his face. They were just horrific dreams he conjured up himself. Why should it matter to them? A deeper part of himself didn't want it exposed. He couldn't explain it. It was more worried about them having the knowledge. "Dean, they're- they're complicated."

"Well try."

Sam wanted to tell Dean to stuff it. Some things just didn't need to be said. Something things didn't need to be shared. _Never let them know._ He paused. Why? Why shouldn't they know? It was as if a curtain shifted and Sam saw the thoughts for what they were. He pushed back the impulse to hide it. "I- uh. I see _him_. It starts out normal. I'm with one of you; Dad, you two. Then-" _A werewolf tore his brother into ribbons, and the demon held on to Sam's arms tightly preventing him from running forward._ "Then it goes dark."

"Dark? How?" Bobby scowled.

"One of you-" Sam's voice softened. "One of you die. Different ways… You've been hacked, shot, stabbed, beaten-" _John gripped desperately for his son's hand as he fell towards the professional grade wood chipper._ "-fallen off of things. I try and save you and _he_ always stops me; Yellow-Eyes. And he laughs and tells me I can't protect you."

Sam didn't meet his family's eyes. He didn't want the pity. He didn't want to see their concern; their horror.

"He keeps telling me I have a job."

Dean tightened his hand into a fist. "What job?"

"I don't know…he's never said. He just presses a gun into my hand." Sam suddenly felt lighter. "He just repeats it again and again"

Dean scowled and scrubbed a hand across his face. He turned around for a second staring at the wall. Sam imagined his face was turning into a multitude of expressions one after the other. He allowed Dean to have that time though.

Bobby just drew his lips in a taut line. "And you never told us about this, why? When Something that dark is happening you know shouldn't be keeping that a secret."

"I don't know. I never wanted too. Something stopped me."

Dean took in a sharp breath. "Something stopped you?!" He turned around. His face was now angry. Eyes narrowed and nostrils flared. "What stopped you?"

Sam tilted his head up and focused on the light. "An impulse. A thought. The dreams seemed so trivial. I never thought- I never wanted to share it." He brought his head down his eyes blown wide and panicked. I didn't think about that at all. "God! He's been mind-raping me hasn't he? And I just-" Sam squeezed his eyes shut. "I never thought-"

"Hey." Dean put a hand to Sam's shoulder, he struggled to keep a calm face. "Chill. We know now." He tilted his head towards his uncle. "Is there a way to prevent Yellow-Eyes from getting up in Sam. I mean- you know what I mean."

"Protect his mind." Bobby said thoughtfully. "Nothing comes to mind now, but I'll check the library. There has to be something inside one of those books. As far as the body goes, I'm beginning to think we need some solid protection from those demons."

"Charms?" Sam offered.

"Charms can be nullified, fall off, or break." Bobby said thoughtfully. "I'm thinking tattoos. Permanent sigils on the skin."

Dean looked shocked. "Great, matching tattoos. We're going to be one of _those_ families. Hey while I'm there I can get your face on my butt."

Bobby scowled, and twitched up an eyebrow at the thought. "I would prefer you didn't." Bobby looked softly down at Sam. "We'll worry about that in the morning. Why don't you get some-?" He cut off as he watched Sam blanche.

"-Some sleep?" The boy finished, his voice broken.

Bobby's calloused hand patted Sam's shoulder and he kept his tone light and pleasant. "Tell you what, I'm up. I'll put something on other than Santa shorts, and we can dig around in the library for a fix."

"I can do it." Sam took another long drink of the water and swished around another swallow to get any remaining taste out. "Just because sleep isn't an option for me doesn't mean you should go without. You two should get some rest. Help me out in the morning."

"Kid, there is no sleep right now. Until I know that your protected, I ain't getting a damn wink." Bobby gestured towards Dean who stood tense beside him. "And I have a feeling neither will your brother. So accept the help."

Sam relaxed. "Fine." His puppy dog eyes came out full force nearly knocking the two men over. "Thanks."

"Oh don't thank me yet." Dean smirked. "You're doing laundry later."

xxxOOOxxx

The phone call came about six in the morning.

They had spent hours pouring themselves over books. The best they had found so far applied to black magic, something Bobby refused to do, white magic with its herbs and gemstones, and native American lore where they could purify the area. Of course they could go the route that an 18th century radical suggested, accept Jesus into their heart. Sam had a strange relationship with religion, but even he figured that wouldn't help him much in this case.

Bobby grunted and stood up from his desk. He shut the dusty tome before grunting again and shuffling towards the kitchen. "Singer."

" _What do you need?"_

Bobby brought a hand up and rubbed at red rimmed eyes. He already had a headache starting, Missouri calling wasn't going to make him feel any better. "What do you mean? I didn't call, you did."

" _You were about to."_ Missouri snapped. _"So what do you need?"_

"Easy, I didn't wake you up." Bobby moved to defend himself. He paused. The last thought he'd had at his desk had been whether or not he should call the woman. Stupid Missouri and her stupid mind reading abilities. "I was going to wait until the morning, if I had decided to call."

" _Is it Sam again?"_ She softened her voice. _"What has that boy been getting into now?"_

Bobby scowled, and leaned up against the counter trying to tamp down the irritation brought on by lack of sleep. He'd done this plenty of nights. The Winchester's brought all kind of trouble, he should be used to it by now. "Kid's being attacked at night. Mentally attacked. We figure the demon is showing the boy awful images of us-" Bobby took in a long inhale. "-us dying. He's trying to coerce the kid into doing some unknown job. I'm not quite so worried about that right now though, we'll address it later. What I need now is-"

" _A way to block access to Sam's mind."_ Missouri stated thoughtfully. _"Mental block would be the best way, but I don't know that the boy could accomplish that at his stage. It would take training. At least a few months' worth, and I figure you want a quick fix now."_

"Preferably."

Missouri started humming loudly, and Bobby heard her flip pages. _"Quick fix would be herbs. Burning and consuming. Got something to write, and write on? It's quite a list."_ Bobby rushed around for the articles. Before he could confirm he had them in his grasp, Missouri continued. _"Burn Sage and Thyme. The sage should purify the area, and the Thyme will protect from nightmares. Then the boy has to swallow down an herbal tea. Sandalwood, spearmint, rosemary, and St John's Wort. St John's is the most important."_

Bobby winced. He had a low level of herb knowledge, but he did know those all ranged in an array of tastes. Sweet, bitter, astringent, and minty. The kid was going to have to swallow down that awful concoction.

" _Now I know it isn't preferred."_ Missouri sounded irritated. _"It'll do the job until he can protect himself. Boy decides he doesn't want to swallow down the tea then then there's a spell you can do, it'll take time setting up, but it should effectively keep the demon at bay. However, if Sam's getting sleep in the next few days he's going to need that tea."_

"Got it." Bobby nodded, despite her inability to see it over the phone. "I have a stock pile of the crap here. I'll whip up that concoction."

" _And don't call me all hours of the night. I swear you boys are helpless babies sometimes."_ Missouri snapped her bad mood returning. The sharp dial tone followed.

Bobby put the phone away from his ear and stared down at it. "I didn't call you…"

xxxOOOxxx

The second they heard the engine they knew he was back, and from the staggering steps they could tell he was drunk. The sound was once familiar, but now it made the boys freeze. Their father for all his faults was especially careful about how much he drank. For him to be drunk now he had to be taking things in a bad way. There was a loud scraping at the door as John repeatedly missed the keyhole with his key and the boys didn't know what to do. Dean was the first to get up and head towards the door, but just as he reached for the lock John's key made contact and twisted. Dean jumped back and let the door swing open.

A very drunk John stumbled through the door smelling of tequila and whiskey. He started at the sight of his son. "Dean-"

"Dad…are you okay?" Dean scoffed at himself. Of course his dad wasn't okay. He'd been gone days. Two weeks to be exact. Smelled like he spent those two weeks' head down in some bar.

"'M sorry." John slurred.

Dean was taken back to those times when Sam kept apologizing for things beyond his control when he was much younger. John's face was even clearly exposing his emotions just like Sam's always had. For a long time he'd thought he'd taken after his father. But Sam…Sam was clearly John's son.

"Dad?" Dean rushed forward and caught his father as he collapsed. He grunted under the weight of his father. "Damn it. A little help Sam."

John stayed like putty in his eldest's arms and looked apologetically at Sam as he rounded the corner out of the living room. "It's my fault Sammy. 'M sorry."

"Balls." Bobby stood in the doorway of the kitchen watching as Sam and Dean tried their best to keep on hold on their boneless father. "What is it with you Winchester's and self-blame. It's like a damn hereditary disease." Irritation read on his face, but he retained any offenses on John's evident drunkenness. He had heard what had happened at the house and obviously it was disturbing the oldest Winchester.

Bobby injected himself into the mess and helped drag their father up the stairs and into the spare bedroom he claimed each visit. When a now unconscious John was finally spilled out over the bed Bobby dragged a hand across his forehead and huffed out a tired breath. "Geeze, your old man weighs a ton."

"Yeah." Sam agreed half-heartedly. He looked down at his dad wondering how Dean had tolerated his father's drunk antics as long as he did. "I'll uh, get some water. He's going to need to hydrate when he wakes up." Sam left the room his mind spinning.

Dean looked down at his father. Memories of tucking him in returning. "I'll grab his things from the truck. Damn bastard shouldn't have driven in his state. I bet he has more than a few dings on his car."

"And a few dings on himself." Bobby picked up John's rubbery head and twisted it to get a better look. "His neck's all scratched up."

Dean bent down to look. Sure enough there were scratch marks on his neck, some still oozing blood. "Jesus! What the hell did he do to himself?"

Sam returned and dropped a cup of water on the table next to the bed and a small bottle of Tylenol. He turned to see what Bobby and Dean were inspecting and cursed sharply. "I'll get the first aid kit."

Once Sammy had returned with a few damp cloths and the extensive first aid kit, Bobby and Dean set to taking care of John while Sam grabbed up John's keys and headed out to the truck.

Gently Dean washed the scrapes on his father's neck with a damp cloth. Bobby passed over a sterile pad with antibiotic and gathered up the bloody cloths and patted Dean on the shoulder. "I'm putting these in the wash, boy." Dean didn't turn around so he spoke to the back the man's head. "You got him?"

"I have him." Dean kept his face neutral. He'd always keep watch over his family.

"Okay…your brother has taken a while so I'm going to check up on him. See if he needs any help." Bobby patted the door frame before exiting. "You call if you need anything."

Dean grunted, and Bobby accepted that as an acknowledgement. Bobby continued down the stairs, despite his worry for the kid. He could only handle one Winchester at a time, and even then their problems were a lot more difficult than anything else his friends threw at him. Rufus didn't even pose the type of problems they did.

He found Sam sitting in his dad's truck watching the sun fade behind the maze of cars. Sam turned his head and glanced at Bobby as he came. Seeing his uncle, he was shaken from his funk.

"I was grabbing his pack and-" Sam stared down at the floorboard of the truck and pointed out the complete and broken bottles on them. "Well- I know what he's been up to the last few days. What if- what if the pain of-" Sam paused. "What if I never get over her? When I was too depressed to get up, and do- well anything, I saw Dean's face. He was suffering alongside me, and I didn't care. I was so focused on myself and my own damn pity. I'm just like dad. What if Dean spends the rest of his life making sure that Dad and I don't give into our depressions. What if he's just our babysitter."

"Would you damn fool Winchesters just get out of your own damn pity for damn sake." Bobby looked down at the bottles and glared at the boy. "You really think Dean thinks that way?"

Sam opened and shut his mouth. The words didn't come.

Bobby didn't care. He scowled at Sam. Sam gave out a grunt as Bobby swung his hand up and gave the back of his head a solid thump. "Well he sure as hell doesn't. I've known you and your brother for a long ass time and _never_ has your brother regretted doing anything for you." Bobby's inner parent came out and he stuck out a hand with the pointer in Sam's face. "And okay you feel bad about this. News shock, you are _never_ going to get over Jessica. You think every day I wake up and not think about Karen. We had been _married_ a lot longer than you and your girlfriend being together, and she's been dead a hell of a lot longer than Jessica, and I still ain't over her." Bobby's voice softened. "You know what helps? What really helps? You remember her. Her laugh. You remember the way her hair curled around her face. You remember special nights where you went out, or stayed in. You remember stupid details, like when she would brush her teeth she had this ridiculous habit of tapping her toothbrush on the sink before and after."

Sam read Bobby's face as he spoke. His expression was a bitter sweet look as he sank deeper into his own thoughts the argument fading into the foreground. He was amazed at how functional Bobby was despite the love he had for his wife. Hopefully one day he would be as okay with everything.

"You get past this. The pain, it fades and scars, and it becomes bearable. Just don't let it overcome you kid. Because you start-" Bobby stopped and glanced at the bottles coating the bottom of his idjit friend's truck.

"Relying on an addiction." Sam supplied.

"Something like that." Bobby shrugged. "I was going with something more offensive, but I like yours better."

Sam met his uncle's eyes. "It is better, kind of, but not really. I mean I'm dealing with- with a lot. And the demon he didn't just show me you guys dying, he played her death on repeat too. Even with him out of my head it's hard to get past it when she's- she's on my mind every night.

"Well you've been drinking the tea." Bobby said firmly. "We keep you on that stuff, and collect those things for the spell and you won't have that jackass in your head. As far as what you conjure up in your own head I can't help that. You can."

"How?" Sam looked up at Bobby his eyes bleeding pure emotion. Sam always had been the King of Sap.

Bobby sighed and scrubbed a hand across his stubble. "When were you the happiest with her?" Bobby stuck out a hand to stop her. "I don't want to know; I want you to think about it. Think about when you were happy with her. Think about those memories where it seemed like nothing could possibly end your enjoyment. Think about those times and dream about that." Bobby then flicked out a finger that tinged against Sam's forehead. "And enough playing the guilty party. You had no clue what the rules were on your visions. Hell, we still don't. It wasn't your fault."

"I know." Sam said a little too quietly.

"No, you don't. In time you will, but right now you're still kicking yourself. Stop it." Bobby growled.

Sam smiled tightly. "Tell me again later." Sam cleared his throat clearly done with the moment. "Dad doing okay upstairs?"

"We cleaned him up. Looks like he clawed himself raw. Dean's going to bandage up the skin. It's not life threatening, but it should stay clean and covered for the next few days." Bobby inhaled the sharp scent of the alcohol coming from the cab of the truck. He made a mental note to clean the moron's car. "We should probably head inside. Besides we're likely to freeze our balls off out here."

"Very eloquent." Sam chuckled. He reached into the back seat and dragged out the tattered duffle his father carried around his sparse clothes in. He shut the door to the truck not focusing on the mess of glass. He didn't want to end up like his father. He wouldn't end up like his father.

 **(Liked it then leave a review.)**


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**(Special thanks to Lenail125 and Souless666 for the reviews. Ya'll seriously rock.**

 **As a warning I have caught up to myself. I usually am maybe about two or three chapters ahead of my posts just to be on the safe side, and after a little of a writers block I have officially caught up. As I write this I am writing up Chapter 14 so I will hopefully be posting on time next week. My muse has returned though so I should be good.)**

 **Chapter Thirteen**

It was bright. Too bright, and every sound irritated him. The warble of a bird outside the window, the soft shift of his blankets every time he moved. And his neck, it burned. John brought a hand up and moved it slowly towards his neck, to have it hindered by a bandage, then long fingers that wrapped around his wrist.

"Hey, leave it alone."

John scowled and furrowed his brow. He had yet to open his eyes, but he knew that voice. Sam; his youngest. His baby. Memories spilled in like a massive flood and filled John with a heaviness. The son he'd condemned that night.

"Are you back with us?" A hand drew back the hair that had stuck to his forehead.

John wished he wasn't. He hadn't planned on driving home. Hell, he didn't remember driving home. Well that was alcohol for you. "Yeah." The single word got caught in his dry throat and started making him cough. John's eyes finally flicked open as he sat up and hunched over.

"Hey, hey. Drink something." Sam insisted as he swam into view. The fuzzy image of his son stuffed a cup with a straw under John's face. The straw was inserted into his mouth, and John let himself accept the help. John drank hungrily from the glass. Once it was drained he shifted and sat back against the headboard.

"How long?"

"You slept through the night, right now it's about three in the afternoon." Sam supplied helpfully. "Dean was here about an hour ago, but I kicked him out. He stayed the night with you and got no sleep."

Ah, Dean. His eldest had always been the reliable one. While Sam pissed and moaned about school, and he drank away his troubles, Dean always made sure the family got what they needed; everything from food to blankets. No matter how many times he wished he could never go back and fix his mistakes. He would always be the drunk dad, and Dean…Dean would be the one who everyone could lean on.

"Why?" Sam demanded softly.

John stumbled out of his thoughts. "Why what?"

Sam exhaled. "Why did you go on a drinking spree? I thought-"

The kid thought that his father had fought through the alcoholism. That he was winning against his dark desires for a stiff drink. Oh the kid was wrong. Every day was a battle. It didn't go away. After the confirmation of the deal Mary had made, he gave in. Some dark place in his head had simply said _fuck it_ and he downed a beer, then the entire pack. Then another. "Got some bad information. Needed to cope."

"Did it help?" Sam sounded tense. Like a parent disappointed in his child.

"Gave me a headache." John pressed a hand to his temple. "A really bad headache."

Sam produced another glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol. John winced at the sound of the bottle being shaken, but gave his boy a tight smile in thanks when the tablets were pressed into his palm. He swallowed down the tablets and drank the rest of the water in the second glass. When he was finished Sam took the cup from his father.

The kid was so hurt and confused. John didn't like the fact that his bad habit, his addiction had caused the pain. Suddenly it felt like an explanation was required. "My dad. He was nice, but busy. He was never really home, and when he was his nose was pressed in a book. He always instilled a sense of strength in me. At the time men didn't cry. Men didn't have emotions. Men went to work and took care of their families. Women were the ones who cried and shared emotional stories."

Sam's brow furrowed. He was confused as to where this was going.

"Then he disappeared. Didn't even come back for his clothes or anything. I always imagined as a kid that he was a spy, and he left to go defend our country." John let out a humorless laugh. "Then when I got older I got mad at him. He probably hooked up with another woman, and decided that his family wasn't good enough for him. Left me to be man of the house, to look after my mother. My mom didn't have anyone left but me, so when I got married, and moved in with Mary, I essentially abandoned her too."

"I'm sure she understood." Sam said quietly.

"Yeah. She didn't condemn me for it but I could tell every time we went to go visit, she wanted us to be there more. Fill her home with a little life. Especially once Dean had been born. She loved getting visits. Then she got sick, and I put her in a home. And I got busy at work, and- I thought _I had time_. Only I didn't. She died. She died, alone in some nursing home. Not even the damn nurses knew she was dead until she was stiff and cold. I should have- I should have at least gone to visit her more." John put a hand through his hair. "I shouldn't have assumed she was okay."

Sam remained quiet. This was rare. John never _shared_ anything.

"I went to a bar that night. I had a few drinks before. Something to loosen you up; get a party going, but never the concentration I had that night. Your mother, was furious at me. When I woke up I tried telling her that I had a headache, and she told me I deserved it. I couldn't stop though. I kept thinking about my mother, how she died alone. Then my father swam back up. Why did he leave me? What was I good for? God Sam, it was like every insecurity from my childhood came back in one vicious swoop. And your mother wanted to talk things through. Discuss my feelings but-"

"Men don't have emotions. Men don't cry." Sam finished.

"Right." John nodded his head and regretted it. "It took a lot of will and time, but I stopped. Mostly for you. Mary told me she was pregnant, and that I needed to snap out of whatever depression I was in for Dean and our little girl." John looked over at Sam when he turned his head in confusion. "She was so sure you were a girl at first. Maybe that's why you unconsciously want your hair so long."

A smile tugged at Sam's lips.

"So I stopped. But when your mother died-"

"It started again." Sam finished for him again.

"Yeah. It's not easy. Something stressful happens and I want to take a drink of anything. Alcohol is so convenient in the fact that you forget everything. Your mind and body relax, and whatever stress you had, just goes away. Except I forgot that it hurts the people around me. When I was drinking regularly I was focused on the demon, on finding him so you stayed safe. The alcohol was the only escape for me, but I forgot I had you two. I forgot that you boys were strong and would have been there for me, just as I should have been there for you." John leaned his head back on the headboard his eyes scanning the popcorned ceiling. "When I got the information a few days ago, I just wanted to forget. I wanted to remember the way my life was as something so nice and innocent. Instead I brought myself and my boys back to the trouble we had years ago."

Sam rubbed at the back of his head. "We were just- surprised. You were doing so good, and you show up stone cold drunk. Then you scratched up your neck something awful." When John brought his hand up to the bandage Sam stopped him again. "Don't touch it. It's cleaned and bandaged. We figured you did it because there was blood and skin under your nails. Unless you remember a fight."

" _When you went to defend her from her father, he snapped your neck._ "

John shuddered as the demon's words came back to him. "I probably did it to myself."

"Why?" Sam asked softly.

"It's a long story, and I don't want to repeat it. When I can get all of you together I'll tell you."

His stubborn boy looked like he wanted to protest but he bit his lip and nodded. "Okay. You uh- need any more water?"

John shifted on the bed again and shook his head. "Maybe a little later. I just want some quiet. Let my headache go down."

"Okay." Sam stood up. He went to the door, and opened it. He didn't leave instantly though his boy kept his back to him. "Thank you, for telling me. You should do that more often. You don't have to be so damn stoic. Men don't have to keep it in. It isn't weakness to let someone know something is bothering you, especially family. Dean, and I- even Bobby- we care about you."

Sam finally turned to look at his father; his eyes were suspiciously damp. "That's why I get mad. I want to know that I'm someone you can go to if you need help. When you keep turning towards alcohol though it's like, I'm- we're obsolete."

John wasn't sure what to say, and he was saved the trouble when his son exited and closed the door behind him. That damn kid and his puppy dog eyes had pierced his heart. "Kids worse than Mary." John muttered to himself as he snuggled into the soft pillows.

xxxOOOxxx

It took the fifth cup of coffee, water to last one man two weeks, a few more Tylenol, and a cold shower. Finally, John was able to stand the sunlight and function like a human being. John blamed his heart to heart on his vulnerable state when he was still nastily hungover. He was now back to his ridged self not breathing a word about the irritated looks he was being given from his family. As much as he wanted to tell them off he did show up _very_ drunk. He couldn't blame them for anything.

At the table in the kitchen he cleared his throat and looked over at his boys. "I wanted to confirm whether or not she had made a deal. Grabbed a few demons and questioned them. The second one finally told me that she had made a deal. The third one confirmed it."

Dean's face fell. Sam blanched. Bobby kept a straight face as he studied John's expression, but John was determined not to show anything.

"Why?" Dean demanded softly. "She was a hunter, that should go against every instinct."

"Because I had died." John braced himself against the shocked and pained glances. "The evening Mary's parents died the demon, wearing her father, went after us as well. He-" John raised a hand to his neck. "He killed me, and your mother made a deal to save my life."

Sam shut his eyes and the sorrow filled voice of his father echoed in his head. _"It's my fault Sammy. 'M sorry."_ The way he clutched at his neck Sam couldn't help but think that his father's neck had been choked or twisted. No wonder his dad had gone on a drinking spree after finding out. "Is that why you tried turning your neck into bloody ribbons?"

"I guess so." John had the sense to look sheepish. "I don't really remember."

Dean for a minute lost concern on his father's wound. The idea that his mother had made a deal cycled around violently in his head. "She made a deal? She sold her soul? Then how was she still in our home?"

John met his eldest's eyes. "She didn't sell her soul. All he asked was for permission to show up at her home." The room got quiet. "I guess she figured she got a good deal from him, or maybe she was emotional. I know I wasn't in a good place when she died, so I can only imagine how it felt when I had."

Dean could only imagine clutching someone he loved as their body went cold. Some powerful being shows up and offers to bring them back, only condition is that they can come in for a visit later on down the road; come in for some tea and crumpets. He would probably make that deal. His head turned towards his little brother. For Sam he would make any deal, even with his soul.

"Was it said what he would do?" Bobby asked.

"No." John remembered just how much he a tortured the third demon to get more details. "I could only get them to reveal what happened during the exchange of the deal. And none of them said what the demon planned to do. I did however, get the biblical name of the demon."

Three pairs of eyes swiveled quickly towards him.

"Azazel."

Bobby exhaled. "Yellow eyes- Azazel. Of course."

Dean was confused. "Why of course? Who is Azazel?"

"The scapegoat." Sam said his tone thoughtful. "Goats have yellow eyes." When Dean threw Sam an irritated look Sam sighed and scratched at his cheek traveling his hand to the back of his head. "He's known in a few religions. Judaism, Christianity, and Islam; if you have God, singular God, then you have Azazel somewhere in your holy book. They mostly agree that he corrupted humanity. He was an angel that brought them the art of making weapons. In anger he was cast down from heaven. He was a scapegoat for God's anger. I always figured he was a thing of legend though…"

"We fight things of legend quite often." Bobby shrugged. "Besides, it could be a demon going by the name Azazel, or _the_ Azazel."

"I tried confirming." John nodded. "They were afraid. They disclosed the information about the deal, but when I asked about Azazel they didn't say a word about him. Only reason I figured it out was because the demon started to say his name. I inferred who he was from there. Then for that matter it's gone silent. I checked in with Ash and his magic computer and he's not picking anything up. I guess after I got that information the bastard has retracted every black eyed son of a bitch. Whoever he is he is some hot stuff down there in hell."

Sam stood up, and paced toward the door. He leaned his forearm against it and balanced his weight to one foot as he stared out into the lot his mind swirling in thought. "Okay so we have Coronel Mustard in the library. But we don't know with what…and why for that matter."

"Coronel Mustard? Library? What are you talking about?" John scowled.

"It's Clue…the board game…" Sam watched his father's face twist more in confusion. Sam wondered in the time he'd been man of the house with his mother and Sam's mother, then bent on revenge, if he'd ever played an actual board game. "It's a murder mystery board game, you try to find out who the murder is, what they used to kill him, and what room he was killed in."

John wrinkled his nose. It all sounded very silly. "Wouldn't the room have his blood in it?"

"Point is-" Sam rolled his eyes, and ignored Bobby and Dean's humored looks. "We know who and where. Azazel in the house. We don't know why he did it, and how he did it. What does he need me to do? Why does he favor me?"

"How do you know he favors you?" Dean brought up an eyebrow.

Sam shut his mouth and turned back outside.

"Sam!" Dean's paternal voice came out. "Your hiding something, and I want to know what."

Sam tightened his jaw. "Before I stopped having my dreams- nightmares- that's what he would say."

"Who would say?" John demanded. "What nightmares."

That was right. His father hadn't been there for the nightmares. He knew nothing about the demon getting in his head. "I uh, had visits from the demon. He would come to me in my dreams and talk to me."

"No. Sam's understating it." Dean growled. He looked over at his father a scowl tightening his lips. "Kid would wake up screaming repeatedly. Finally, we found out he's being tortured in his sleep. The demon kills one of us in his dreams. He threatens one of us to make Sam do some job. He didn't however mention that the guy was playing favorites."

"And you didn't tell anyone? How long had this been going on?" John matched Dean's growling tone.

"Okay, look. I didn't want to tell anyone, because _he_ didn't want me to tell anyone. There was a block that anytime I felt like mentioning it I wouldn't. I didn't realize until- well I realized it okay. And I've been drinking that bitter tea every night so he doesn't find a way back in." Sam saw Buddy coming back around from his walk. The dog perked up and rushed towards the door. "And I didn't think it mattered. The whole playing favorites thing. He probably used that line on everyone."

Dean's face darkened more. "Doesn't matter? What else did he say that doesn't matter?"

Sam stepped away from the door so Buddy had room to get in. His mind thought back to the dreams. The horrific deaths he'd witnessed.

" _They will all live, if you do your job. If you don't I will have to force my hand."_

" _Do your job."_

The blood flowing from his arm in small rivers.

" _You have the blood to do it."_

Sam shuddered as he remembered the demon's hands on him. On his arms. On his legs as he was knocked down and dragged away. On his face. In his even traveling up his chest.

" _You are the vessel to do it. Before you force me to choose a champion, make the smart choice and just do the job."_

The demon's breath in his face, it smelled and tasted of death and toothpaste. _"After all you are my favorite. You have everything going for you."_

"God, Dean. I don't know." Irritation wrinkled his face as he despised the demon for putting him through that, and his family for making him remember everything. "He said a lot of things. Demons do that. Demons fill your head with doubt and painful memories."

"For instance." Dean prodded none to patiently.

Sam turned around radiating anger. "I don't want to think about it Dean. Every time I think about it, I think about you being dead. You know how many times he killed you? All of you? How he killed you? Each time I was restrained. Chained, held, or forced back with his mind tricks. And you just screamed, again and again. God, and his breath, his hands." Sam shut his eyes and didn't open them until Buddy whined and pushed up on his back legs in attempt to reach his boy's face.

"Sam, I don't want you to be in pain thinking about it but-"

"Yeah you need to know." Sam snapped at his brother, but ran a hand through Buddy's soft fur. He bent at the knees and started to give his dog a good rub down. Buddy thumped his tail and Sam felt a sense of calm go through him with the simple motion. "I get it. He- told me that you would live if I did my job. That if I didn't he would force me to. God it was like a chant. Do your job, do your job. Like he's my damn supervisor and it's a fucking nine to five." Sam took in a shaky breath. He didn't look at his family. He couldn't stand to see their faces. "He said I had the right blood. I was the right vessel. I was his favorite and if I just did the job he didn't have to choose a _champion_."

Dean broke the silence once Sam had stopped. "Right blood? Right vessel?"

"I dunno Dean. I am type O, they're the universal donors. Maybe he's telling me to hit up a Red Cross and offer a pint." Sam's attempt at humor was lost among his family. "Whatever. It's all a bunch more questions that don't help with anything. That's how this works right. We get an answer and twelve more questions to go with it."

"This is all just so-" Dean stood up and slammed the chair back under the table. "I wish he would stop fucking with you, Sam."

"Yeah well me too." Sam snapped angry at no one and everyone; angry at the situation. He ran a hand through his hair. Suddenly with the day's events it was just too much. "I gotta- I need to-" Sam clenched and unclenched his fists. "I can't-"

"Go." Dean said shortly, but not unkindly. "I'll come find you if you're out too long."

Not bothering to change his cloths out Sam stalked angrily towards the door it's hinges swinging it shut behind him. Buddy followed through the dog door.

Dean listened to his brother jog off and when he was sure Sam was out of earshot, Dean let out a loud curse. The chair he slammed the table he aggressively kicked at snapped the back rest in half sending the seat and legs skittering to one side. "What the fuck!?"

Bobby stood up appalled at his _son's_ actions but understanding at the same time. "Dean. Stop."

"No! I'm tired of this. I'm tired of him screwing with, Sam. With us." Dean clenched his fists and paced in a slight circle. "I need to do something, but I can't. There isn't anything we can do about it until we know more and we don't get information. Sam's right we find out one answer and we get more questions!"

"Think it's easy for any of us?" Bobby snarled. "I see Sam's face every time he has to take a drink of that nasty ass tea. I see the kids face every time he finds out more about the deal, his mother, hell- _everything_. I see your face, and your suffering as well. We are all suffering. Maybe the demon hasn't done something personally to me, but messing with the kid, and messing with you makes this personal. I want to find the bastard about as badly as you do, but pissing and moaning aint doing it boy."

Dean tightened his jaw. "I am not _pissing and moaning_. I'm just- I'm just mad. I want the jerk dead. I want his fucking head on a stake sitting in the front lawn." Dean slammed his hand into the wall and ignored the sharp sting that followed. "I want his head in the lawn so that anything that comes near my family knows just what I'll do to it, if it screws with them."

John studied his eldest with a masked expression. He hadn't seen Dean so emotional. Angry yes, but this transcended angry.

"Sam doesn't need us to be angry." Bobby growled. "You think I don't get angry about this shit. Well I do, but I don't show it to him. He doesn't need to feel any guiltier about things. He knows that I'm steaming on the inside…that I don't sleep because I stare at the ceiling seething…and the kid will blame himself…again."

Dean glanced at the ceiling. "That's why I'm not doing this in front of him." His hands shook. "I can't- I'm trying to be strong, but- but there's only so much I can handle." Dean ran his red and angry palm through his hair. "Jesus I need a-" He stopped and looked over at his dad. He balked at his father's hurt expression. He needed a beer, but needing that. Would that make him into something he didn't want to be later. If he relied on this to help him through things now, how would he learn how to cope later without it. "I need to go upstairs and check on something."

John turned away as Dean headed out of the kitchen and up the stairs. He felt Bobby's hand settle on his shoulder.

"He didn't mean to hurt you." Bobby supplied helpfully. His face open; showing that if John needed to talk he could.

"I know." John scowled. "Damn if he isn't right though. Kid shouldn't rely on the stuff to get through this crap. He needs to find an outlet, or he'll- he'll end up like me. A pathetic drunk."

Bobby gave John a sympathetic look but knew that nothing he could say would make him feel better. His boys he knew like the back of his hand. He could get their spirits up easy, John. Well he was an entirely different story. Figuring he couldn't help the situation any with words, he started the coffee maker. "Need another cup."

"God please." John groaned and palmed his eyes.

( **Hey you guys liked it? Then leave a review. They are always appreciated. Or if you've noticed something that doesn't add up then don't be afraid to tell me. One of my biggest pet peeves is that I don't catch every mistake that comes through and when I read through after posting there's a spelling error or some punctuation error. It's irritating. :/ Seriously I just reread through it and caught myself spelling Coronel with "Coronal." uggghhhhh.)**


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**(Thank you lenail125 and Souless666. You guys will never know just how much I appreciate the reviews.)**

 **Chapter Fourteen**

If you had asked they were not moping, but Bobby wasn't blind or stupid. The damn Winchesters would go gold in moping around.

King Moper himself John Winchester loafed around the house shifting from the sitting room, the living room, to the kitchen. In the kitchen his gaze brushed against the fridge. Like it wasn't evident he was aching for a beer after his recent fall. His face would then harden and he'd move back to the sitting room and find interest in some lore book before making the same cycle.

Dean curled up with a recent Hustler magazine, but Bobby saw that not a page was turned. Not even one woman was that interesting to look at in those pages. His eyes were clouded as his mind churned violently with angry thoughts and facts that only led to more questions.

Sam ran. He only spent a small fraction of his time inside the house using his time to run or keep himself active. Despite whatever was surely cycling through the kids head Sam kept his face neutral careful to mask any emotion he may have felt.

He couldn't blame them. What was going on with their situation wasn't favorable in the least. The crazy lies, the even more overwhelming truth, the numerous questions, the traumatic feeling that all that combined left over. He was sympathetic, however after the first day Bobby was done with it. They wouldn't have the chance again.

That morning they were prepared to do the same thing they had been for the last few days. Before Sam could put his hand on the knob and before Dean picked up the magazine he'd read for the last three days Bobby smacked his hand on the table. He gave an inward chuckle at their jump.

"So you sorry princesses want to mope around, again?"

Sam wrinkled his nose. "Mope?"

"Yeah." Bobby smirked. "The second thing you Winchester's are famous for. Moping. Loafing around the house looking like your dog just got beat up." Bobby reached under the sink and pulled out the supplies he'd been collecting all that night. "Well that's not happening today. Ya'll are going to be a few Cinderella's today."

Dean's eyes bugged at the collection of spray bottles and rags. The old man was making them clean house.

"Have fun with that." John waved his hand dismissively.

"You are doing it too." Bobby shook his head firmly. "My home is a mess, no thanks to you three loafers. So we are _all_ going to clean up." He caught Dean's petulant eyes. "Properly. None of that one wipe and done bit. My house is going to sparkle."

John frowned. "Look Singer. I may joke that we're a couple, but ease up on your female routine. My wife may be dead but I aint looking for a replacement."

"John Winchester!" Bobby growled.

"Wow, you do an amazing impression of her. I may reconsider." John rolled his eyes.

One of the rags sailed across the kitchen and landed on John's shoulder. "Smart ass. Like I said before; we are _all_ doing it. You, you, and yes even you. Now grab a rag."

Given the boy's skill at languages Bobby had Sam pick up discarded books and put them in their respective spots, and pick up the living room. Then dust the rooms, and clean any wood surfaces. John was tasked with the kitchen cleaning piling up dishes, counters, and mopping up the floor. Dean was tasked with the bedrooms, and doing any dirty laundry found in the home. Bobby settled himself down to take care of the bathrooms. At first the jobs were met with petulant statements and stares, eventually the house was silent as the Winchesters focused on their tasks. The repetitive motions and mental checklists helping take their minds off of everything. Dean even put his headphones on and jammed to his Walkman.

It took a while but after a few hours the men all collapsed on the couch the repetitive motion of cleaning causing a slight ache in their muscles. Bobby admired his living room looking cleaner than it had in a long time, and all the books in their proper spots without a speck of dust on them. They sat in silence until Sam chuckled. His family turned to look at him.

"Dude, Dean…you should be deaf. I mean you put on your headphones but I swear I could hear the music from down here." Sam grinned wide looked over at his brother. "With the level you have your music at you won't have hearing once you make it to 40."

Dean good naturedly wrinkled his nose. "Hey, music needs to be appreciated."

"Appreciation requires to burst one's ear drum?" John twitched up an eyebrow as his face turned what one might describe as stern, and parental.

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes up. "Right. Thanks mom and dad."

Bobby chuckled at the Winchesters new found spunk. That's all they needed was something to get their mind off of everything, at least for a few hours. He slapped the palm of his hand on the couch and stood up. "I for one am hungry, so I'll make us some late lunch."

"No." Sam stood up easily out matching Bobby's height. He gave his uncle an appreciative glance. "I got it."

Dean groaned and pushed up from the couch giving a casual shrug. "I guess I'll help, too. Sam may catch the place on fire."

Sam puffed out an unamused breath. "It was an accident, and I was seventeen."

John ticked up an eyebrow. "You caught your sleeve on fire, and by proxy your hair..."

"Seeing as I need constant observation; why don't you help?" Sam tilted his lip upward in an aggravated half smile. "I mean help from the great John Jeffrey Winchester- that's something to desire."

His father kept his gaze on him but the eyes darkened. Sam could see a particular psychics name mouthed angrily by his father followed by a sharp audible curse.

xxxOOOxxx

"I'd call you a _little_ shit but I think we are quite beyond that."

Sam inhaled sharply his hands fighting.

"I mean after you turned 15 you went from _little_ to _giant,_ but the fact remains the same, you're still a piece of shit."

Sam felt a hand press down on his windpipe and any oxygen that trickled in his constricted throat ceased. God he wished they were sparring. That Dean had just knocked him on his ass again and for training purposes had shown just how easy it was to go straight for the throat. He wished what was on top of him _was_ his brother. It wasn't though.

"I mean I have spent my whole LIFE, watching over you. I worked my ass off for you. Going to school, then working a job sweeping in some shop, then having to come home and brush little Samantha's hair. Make sure that Samantha was well rested for her own school. Make sure that Samantha had food when Dean- when _I_ didn't." Not-Dean's face twisted into an ugly expression. It was hatred. Pure hatred.

In fact, Sam was somewhat surprised he could even _see_ his not-brother's expression. What with his vision starting to gray around the edges. Sam's urge to get the hands off of his neck intensified and he fought harder.

"Then we made it to that drunk's home. Uncle Bobby I mean. He's as much a drunk as dad is." Dean relaxed his grip to allow Sam to gasp in a breath of air, only to press down again. "Then even when we get an adult figure in our lives willing to stick around, I still have to take care of your ass."

Sam felt rejuvenated with the breath. He changed his tactics to shifting his hand down and his foot up as he aimed for the knife in his boot.

Not-Dean tsked loudly and released one of his hands to grab Sam's moving wrist. "I _know_ you have a knife in your boot." He twisted Sam's wrist and Sam gave a breathless gasp. Sam instinctively retracted his wrist to his chest as he felt his blade released from the comfort of his ankle. He didn't even wince as the blade shifted and cut against his skin. "Anyways…Let's go back to discussing just how pathetic you are."

"Or how pathetic _you_ are…"

Not-Dean jerked his hands away as he looked for the new threat. Then he stilled. Sam watched as his not-brother's eyes darkened with death, and his mouth dropped open spilling out a small stream of blood. Despite his need for oxygen Sam couldn't help but startle when the bullet flashed through his brother's brain. Not his brother. The shapeshifter's brain.

A boot came into view as someone firmly kicked away the shifter from his straddling position over Sam. A matching boot stepped up and Sam turned his head to watch Dean- wait no- Not-Dean get kicked once more skittering across the stained carpet.

"Hey Sammy, look at me, not- not that."

Dean's voice sounded from above him. Sam's oxygen deprived brain fought to once again figure out what was happening. How could he be there when he was dead over there. Shifter…Not-Dean. Sam was going to move his head but familiar calloused hands did it for him. They were gentle as they shifted over Sam's abused neck. Yes, this was Dean. The thing dead wasn't. Sam scowled when he saw his brother though. He had blood on his face. A weeping cut sat along his hair line.

"Your hurt." Sam wheezed.

Dean let out a relieved chuckle and sat back on his haunches. If his brother was concerned for his well-being and not his own, then he was running on all cylinders. He pressed a hand to the wound that he had forgotten even existed. "Hey, I'm good. You were put through quite the ringer though."

Sam didn't fight Dean as he was rolled into the recovery position to get a better oxygen flow. After inhaling a few more breaths Sam allowed himself a breathy laugh. "I could take you any day."

"Please, I've could kick your ass in a second." Dean patted Sam's shoulder and stood up taking in the state of the motel room; blood on the comforters, the wooden chairs and small table broken, a few Sam-sized indents in the wall. "Something tells me we're not getting our deposit back."

"Sorry." Sam moaned. "You- He used me to break the table."

"Well, seeing as it is your fault, that means you need to come up with the money to pay off the damages." Dean smirked before kicking the opened motel door closed and started searching in the mess for the first aid kit.

"The police will respond to the shot." Sam pushed up from the ground ignoring the twinge of pain in his wrist, and other body parts for that matter. He sat up and inhale sharply trying to keep his breath steady and even.

Dean scoffed as he finally found the first aid and brought it over to his brother. "Please… Big city, the bad side of town, and some shady motel. Not to mention based off the number of keys still hanging up in the office there's maybe about three rooms rented. They may get a call, but they'll never peg from where. We're fine." Dean started working on the buttons from Sam's bloodied button up. He scowled when Sam smacked away his hands.

"Gotta buy me a drink first." Sam coughed.

"Don't worry Samantha." Dean chuckled. "I'll keep your dignity intact."

"Dn't call me that." Sam muttered, as he drunkenly waved off another attempt by Dean to unbutton his shirt. "That's what he called me. I didn't like that."

Dean's eyes flickered towards the dead shifter. "What else did not-me say?"

"Nothin' important."

"Sure. Nothing important." Dean scowled, his eyes darkening as anger clearly made its way across his expression. It didn't make his motions any less gentle though. "I have to look though Sam. I need to make sure you don't have anything bleeding internally."

"I don't." Sam insisted.

"I would like to check though." Dean patiently sat back. "We can do this one of two ways little brother. You can make the smart choice and let me, or we can go with plan morphine."

Sam flinched. For being so tall, alcohol and any type of medical drug had very strong and quick reaction. They both knew that one shot of morphine and Sam would be out for the count. Sam brought his shaking hands to undo the buttons but thought better. His brother had a steady grip and could do it quicker, so he put his hands down. "Okay. You can check."

"Good." Dean stated simply.

After regrouping at the house and figuring that there would be no more answers from moping around the place they had split up. Their father had left again after hearing about mysterious deaths and coincidental "healings" done by a miracle man. After the sudden disappearance of demonic activity, he needed something to do and it was just weird enough that it had peaked his interest. Bobby was off hunting a potential rawhide. He had insisted that rawhides were dull creatures and he wouldn't need back up. So Dean had picked up a hunt for him. It was somewhat personal for Sam initially.

One of his college friends had been jailed for the murder of his wife. Weird thing was time of the murder he was filmed leaving a building downtown, time stamp and everything. Witnesses however saw him running from the home the night of the murder. He was released though after doubt was inflicted into his case. Following his there were two other men with the same story. One found on camera leaving the bank at the time of his girlfriend's death despite being seen fleeing the murder scene as well. And another out with friends while he was also in his home torturing his wife. She had gotten away and called the police, and police had shot him six times in the hostage situation only to have him run off. Nobody could account for when he showed up with his friends, gunshot free.

Theories ran amok about unknown twins, or freaks of nature who just happened to look alike. They didn't know for sure though and that had stumped the PD.

Of course while looking for clues Dean came across the creature. Well more like the tire iron came across his face. Left Dean tied up in some dank section of the sewers to come back and find his little brother.

After a few hours of struggling out of his ties and running madly towards the motel, he'd come in time to see Sam in his own dire struggle with the bastard. He'd taken the first clear shot he was able. Nothing hurt his little brother and lived.

The button up removed and the undershirt cut away with Sam's protest, Dean was able to see the bruises blooming around his brother's back and chest. There were a few cuts along his arms from what Dean assumed was his own serrated blade. It was nothing life threatening but it would be painful to his brother for the following days. He did not vocalize his findings to his little brother. "Any pain on your legs?"

"No." Sam grunted. A sharp look from Dean and his answer changed. "Maybe more bruises."

"Let me see." Dean demanded.

"One thing to get my top off, but now you want to get into my pants. I'm not that easy Dean Winchester." Sam smirked.

Dean smirked. "Oh I know. You were practically a virgin up until you found Jessica. It probably would take more than a steak and lobster to get off that chastity belt."

"Not really." Sam grinned. "Madison Wilson. Junior year. She jumped me."

Dean found a spot that was bruise free on Sam's arm and grinning, slugged his brother. "Knew it. You came home grinning wider than I'd ever seen you. The girl was sweet but I bet she was like an animal once you got her."

"I don't kiss and tell." Sam waved off Dean's curiosity.

"You're such a girl." Dean grunted. "Now pants off."

"Then we can look at your head?" Sam posed.

Dean sighed. "Yes. I finish up with you then you can look at my head." He waited patiently for Sam to slip his hands to his belt and start shimmying down the jean. It wasn't weird. The boys had tended to each other's wounds in awkward places, and even before then Dean was Sam's primary source for baths and diaper changes.

Once the jean was off, Dean inhaled a soft breath. It was simple bruising. Nothing that would kill him. The damn imposter didn't cause his little brother too much damage.

"Okay, we're cleaning you up now." Dean ordered gruffly not bothering to leave his brother's side he scooped up a canteen of holy water they kept in the kit. It was over kill for the cuts but it would do the job to wipe off the blood. He wet a small pad and ran the pad slowly down his brother's arm to wipe off the blood-

-and retracted the pad the next second. His brother was steaming. His eyes darted to his brother's face as he watched his brother massage at his temple. He may have a headache from the fight but he certainly wasn't in squirming pain. He returned his gaze back to the steaming skin. Wait- the steaming blood. His blood was the actual thing steaming from the water's touch.

Dean inhaled sharply. "How are you not feeling that, Sam?"

Holy water was used to clean out wounds usually from the demonic variety. With the amount of wounds he had to have cleaned out with it he was one-hundred percent sure that it stung and burned like a mother. Nobody not even his father could sit still for it, and there Sam was just sitting with his arm smoking with the stuff with none of the evident pain.

"Feel what Dean?" Sam shifted his face towards him, and Dean could see his little brother's face paled further and Dean finally thought that whatever trace was in the wound (if there was a bit in the wound) was finally affecting him. Sam's eyes opened from their hazy slits though as he spotted something his brother didn't. "Oh shit! Dean, move!"

"Huh?" Dean turned to look behind him, but Sam just growled and grabbed the collar of his button up and fell backwards, taking his big brother to the ground with him. Dean landed partially on top of his brother until he rolled off. In time to watch his serrated blade fly overhead and embed in the wall. About the height that his neck would have been. Both Sam and Dean scrambled up to a sitting position and their eyes went to the shapeshifter. But he was still very dead a hole on the side of his head.

"What the fuck? Who threw that?" Dean went on edge as he eyed the room, but there was no one.

Sam's mind spun as he swiped his arm at the blood trickling from his nose. "No sudden drop in temperature." He reasoned aloud and Dean caught his understanding, racing for the EMF that had fallen off his bed in the fight. "It just wiggled on the ground next to him and flew at you." Sam sounded surprised. The blood from his nose didn't stop. "God my headache is getting worse."

Dean noted the last comment but right now a headache was second to making sure no one, or thing, in the room was trying to kill them. He flicked on the EMF and the little engine ran but didn't light up or wail. "It's not picking anything up. If something threw that it's gone now."

Not thinking Dean whipped up the soaked pad of holy water and handed it to his brother who pressed the clean side to the underside of his nose; and freaked out. His blood started to sizzle and steam just like it had on his arm. Sam looked more shocked than in pain. "What the-"

"Put it down, Sam!" Dean smacked the pad away from Sam's hands and flinched himself when the bulb on the bedside table flickered before the bulb shattered. Sam despite the pounding pain in his head turned with his brother to look at the EMF that had stayed on, and not once cried out or lit up.

"Dean seriously- what the hell?" Sam stared at the noiseless meter. What was going on?

"I don't know!" Dean was freaked but he reigned in his panic. "I wiped at your arm and it started- steaming. Holy water only affects wounds that have been caused by a small variety of creatures. Shifter's shouldn't cause that kind of affect though. Did he fight you with anything weird or-"

"No, just your blade…" Sam grimaced and moved his hand away from his nose. He studied the dissipating steam from his blood. "I have no clue why this is happening. Do you have any clue as to why? I mean I may have book smarts but you- you've seen more than me. I mean I've been on what- this makes five hunts. You-"

Dean grunted and Sam stopped talking. "I know- a lot more, but I don't know what to say. I've never seen anything like that before. Then again. You're doing all kinds of weird things." He patted Sam's shoulder and stood up heading to the bathroom.

"Exactly." Sam sounded very bothered by this revelation. "First the vision, then the mind attacks."

Dean wet the hotels hand towels under the faucet and allowed his face to fall for a second. Everything was kind of happening to Sam. Next thing you knew they would find out that Sam was the one throwing around knives and busting light bulbs. The thought was initially dramatic but Dean nearly dropped the towel. No. The universe wouldn't do that. There was no way it was that unfair. Sam already thought himself a freak, he didn't need this added to his plate.

He wrung out the towel and went back to his brother his face not reflecting his thoughts. He knelt next to Sam. With the regular tap water there was no ill reaction. Which only created more questions. If the shifter wasn't the cause, why had Sam's blood reacted to the holy water? Sam had only been on five hunts and in all he had never once needed to be touched with the stuff, this would be the first time and it was on accident. Why his blood?

"You're thinking too hard." Sam broke him from his thoughts. "I'd suggest you'd stop or something will blow."

"Bite me." Dean quipped back. "I'm friggin' brilliant and you know it. Had I actually tried I could have graduated with top honors, you bitch."

Sam smirked. "With a shit ton of luck." He waved his arm that wasn't being wrapped.

"Luck my ass." Dean grinned. "Who tutored you when you were clueless about something on your homework?"

"Me clueless about something?" Sam scoffed. "Please, I know everything."

"I'll have to check you for a concussion too it seems."

"I'm not the one with my head leaking." Sam grinned. His stray hand went up to his brother's head wound.

Once again concern wasn't geared towards himself. It was concern for his big brother. Dean loved him. NO matter what he would take care of his little brother. Even if he found out the worst he would always be there for the giant kid. They'd get through this together. "Shut up, Sam."

 **(Enjoyed it please leave a review. It's getting to feel like I have two people who appreciate this story. And honestly If I'm dragging out something that isn't interesting then please inform me via review or PM. I have always said I am up for suggestions or concerns.)**


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**(Thank you to Souless666 and lenail125 for your continued reviews. Love you guys.)**

 **Chapter Fifteen**

"Sally!" Dean crowed loudly in unison with the bell on the door. He smiled his best smile as the 50-year-old woman looked up from pouring a fresh cup of coffee and smiled pleasantly at the man. Her smile widened wolfishly as his father followed in behind him.

Sam rolled his eyes as he shoved his dad inside the door and gave Sally a friendly wave. He and his brother knew about the relationship between Sally and his father. They weren't in too much danger of her becoming their mother. She was another woman who satisfied his needs, and she didn't seem too terribly attached to the idea of a future together with their father. So they were pretty safe. He walked through to the booth and sat down Dean sharply on his heels.

Sally followed after John to the booth. Neither of the boys missed the squeeze John got on his behind from the woman. Dean smirked at his father's jump. "So I'll assume ya'll want the regular." She waited until they all were seated before continuing. "Sam wants the Caesar salad. Dean want's a bacon cheese burger extra cheese. And you-" She wrinkled her nose in thought and regarded John. "You want either chicken or- you want the beef brisket sandwich. And you want the sandwich."

"You are amazing." John grinned his hand brushing the hand she had resting on the table.

"And doncha forget it, hun." She winked and wandered off. The walk as she went away was a sassy sashay.

Dean smirked. She was attractive. She lacked the aging grey in her hair and despite having a daughter of her own it was pretty evident that she worked out. Dean would put her in the MILF category. "Is that what you wanted- HUN."

"Shut up." John waved off his son's humor. "So it burned, huh."

Sam scowled and looked a little distracted. He turned his gaze preferably out the window and not at his family. "Yeah. It steamed. It didn't hurt, but- each time the water was used-." Sam paused his voice fell. "Something moved." He didn't miss his big brother flinch. "I didn't miss that, Dean. As much as you wanted me too."

"Moved?!" John shot up an eyebrow. "What do you mean by moved?"

Sam started to speak but stopped when Sally came back up three cups balanced in her hand.

"Okay so a Diet Coke for John. A lemonade for Dean, and a chocolate milk for Sammy." She placed the two cups and the mason jar of milk in their appropriate homes. She smirked at their apparent discomfort at the lack of manly drinks. "Don't worry boys, you can't always have beers. Foods on the way. I got it being rushed." She looked down to John with a wide smirk. "And how long are you planning on staying in town Mr. Winchester?"

John collected himself from his initial anger at the lack of information he had. "For a while. Do you need some help with your car? I'm good with engines."

Dean visually gagged and met eyes with Sam. Knowing your father had a sex life was one thing, watching him plan it was an entirely different thing.

"I could use some help. Today, after my shift?" Sally gave a wide smile knowing that she'd have an opening.

"Maybe not today. I have plans with my boys." John lit up with a mega-watt smile. "I am free tomorrow however. I can come over and look at it around eight."

"Sounds like a plan." She gushed before spinning around at the sound of a bell. The cook looked impatiently from the window. She scowled but turned and gave John a pleasant smile. "I have to get back to work, but it's a plan. I'll bring your food out when it's done."

John waited until she was gone before he allowed his face to darken again. "What is this about something moving? What do you even mean by that?"

"Like it was on the ground away from us and it moved. If I had to describe it, it was almost like telekinesis." Sam put a hand unconsciously to his head reminding himself of the pain. "I got this blinding pain and a nose bleed, kind of like when I have visions."

"And it happened when the water was applied to the blood. Almost like without him even thinking his body was protecting itself from whatever was the danger. In this case the holy water was what triggered it. We tried it twice more. Once on me and there was no affect, and again on Sam and one of Bobby's windows shattered."

John had noticed the window was broken. He hadn't said anything about it yet. Unhappiness was clear on his face as he thought out what they were saying. "So- So what I'm getting here is this is _another_ separate ability?! I'm guessing like the visions; dormant." John scrubbed a hand across his face. "Shit Sam."

"I know." Sam didn't look too happy either. "It's not a picnic for me either. It hurts like hell. I'm thinking at this point- I need to go see Missouri. I didn't want to before but if these- these _abilities_ keep popping up then I have to know how to control them. I almost killed Dean. He tried cleaning off my arm and I sent a knife towards him. I get you aren't happy with it. Neither am I, but while we are looking for some way to stop it…I have to be in control."

"We are looking. When we aren't on hunts, I'm spending all my time on finding something- anything about what is happening with you." John blurted.

"I know, and thank you." Sam gripped the edge of the table and met his brother and father's shocked faces. "But like I said I can't be a danger to you. And before you say I'm not that's exactly what I am. I have harmless visions yes, but now add to that the telekinesis, and I miss one dose of my tea and I get another fucking threat on your lives. I need this as much as you do. And she's already called me and I've told her I'm going. She think's it'll be at least a month. She's working on canceling her appointments to give me all the time that I need."

Dean put his hands firmly on the table. "Then I'll-"

"No." Sam looked up at his brother. "I'll take a junker and go alone. Bobby's library is better that what Missouri has, and if you are going to find anything, it'll be there. Besides she's even said that me practicing and working the powers could be dangerous for anyone close by. Not knowing what I'm capable of, I'd rather not have you guys around."

"The hell I'm not going. Dad and Bobby can handle the research." Dean growled. His anger perked up the interest of a few of the patrons.

"Dean- please. Give me at least a month and then you can come riding on your white horse."

The brother's gaze clashed and neither backed down.

"For me big brother?" Sam turned his intense gaze into his puppy dog eyes.

"Crap." Dean turned his head away suddenly unable to compete. "I'll give you one month, but you call at least once a day."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean."

This time Dean didn't back down. "No Sam. You don't want me running up there, then you call me. I left you alone in college and look what trouble followed you. I'm not making the same mistake. Weird freaky powers or not, you're my kid brother and you are not being taken away from me if I have a breath in my body."

Sam studied his brother. He knew it would bother him, but not this much. "Okay. I'll call."

"Once a day?"

"Once a day I will call you. I'll tell you about whatever Mr. Miyagi lessons I have with her, and how many bowel movements I've had."

"And what you had for breakfast, lunch, and dinner too."

"Yes Mom." Sam rolled his eyes again. He looked over at his dad. "You okay with it?"

"If you think it's going to help, then yes." John gave his boy a patient look, but they could both tell he was just as bothered. "If anything seems weird or out of the ordinary you tell us. Anything down to a strange stray dog lurking around her neighborhood."

"Got it." Sam turned his attention to Sally as she brought over steaming plates. Much like Bobby, Missouri's own home had its wards and protection spells. Sam wished he could chalk his family's concern to overreaction, but he knew better. He seemed to be followed by trouble no matter what. Calling and informing them of his day would be a small consolation on them being safe and away from him, at least for a month.

He watched his brother hide his disgust as Sally and his father flirted more and unsubtly discussed how much they missed each other being intertwined.

He'd also miss his family, to be sure. He'd not let his brother's side once in the months he'd returned home. Not hearing his brother breath as he slept, and not having the big oaf to crack inappropriate jokes would be new and, if he had to be honest, terrifying. He'd done it before though. He had been depressed the first few months away at school but over time he'd settled into a routine. That's exactly what he'd have to do now.

xxxOOOxxx

The '70 Dodge Charger was pretty beat up. Its engine sputtered, and the bumper sat a little lower than it should but the Honda Civic behind it wasn't concerned with the state of the car. They were focused on the tall guy driving it with the messy floppy hair. The same car and driver he'd been following the last two hours off the highway and onto the little country two lane road. His leg was cramping a slight bit with the impression of pushing down on the gas as long as he had been, but it was a minor annoyance.

He whipped his head towards the flip phone on the seat next to him and picked it up careful to avoid the little pattern of blood on the seat. His shirt was white, and white stained something awful. He'd learned a long time ago blood was a devil of a thing to get off clothes.

He didn't bother looking at the caller ID. One person had his number. "Boss."

" _Where is he headed?"_

"That daft psychic woman's home. I thought he got his shit together and was headed towards our goal." Irritation clearly read in his tone. He didn't have the strength to hide it. He'd spent years, decades, practically two centuries, making sure the right couples got together, that the right situations appeared so that the right deal could be made so that in one night the right step could be made to setting up children with their awe inspiring abilities. Year after year they failed. This batch the boss saw promise in the Winchester kid. His mother was a hunter and his father was the offspring of a Men of Letters. Not to mention the rich blood line the Winchester's had alone. He was perfect for the job. At least that's what his Boss said. The way he saw it, he was coddling the boy. "I can turn him around. Make him change his mind."

" _No."_ The response was rushed, and the demon behind the wheel tightened his hold. It would be another waste of time. Another lifetime of preparing everything for a new batch of children. _"He's doing the next best thing. He's getting training. We'll leave him alone for now."_

"NO offense, Boss." The demon kept the death grip on the wheel but kept his tone light, so he wouldn't lose his neck- host's neck. He personally would be put on the rack and tortured for a few years if he offended his boss. "We don't know if that is indeed what he is doing. And even if he was; the woman is a moron. She'll coddle him and baby him needlessly. Probably offer him cookies and milk every damn day. We'd be better off training ourselves."

It was true. The type of training he'd get with the demons versus the training he would get from the crazy psychic. They would whip him bloody, feed him more of the drugs he would need and _make him_ do the things he would need to. The woman would give hugs and talk about feelings and make sure he was comfortable through the process. That didn't make for progress.

" _Calm down. We take him and he fights us tooth and nail. Winchester's I have discovered are not only smart but they are tenacious. We take longer to get him to where he needs to be if we attempt our tactics. No. Let him train with someone he does trust. We can tweak his- curriculum when we need to."_

"But her?"

" _She's pretty strong; gotten more out of me than I could imagine. Not everything but she's the first to break through my barriers."_ He hummed. _"No let my champion be."_

The man looked ready to argue but paled. The beat up Charger's driver was now looking back at him through the rear view mirror. Hazel eyes watching his every move. He turned his eyes to the side as if he were admiring the view. "Boss, I have the kid's attention." He had forgotten the kid was good. He'd followed other kids before, but he forgot the kid was trained as a hunter and even without damn clever. Maybe he would be their champion.

" _No matter."_ His boss sounded calm. _"We know where he'll be. Turn at the second exit you hit. I'll have Meg follow him if I need him to have a tail. And dispose of the body properly."_

The demon glanced back at the blanket covering body curled up on the back floorboard of his car. He'd needed a car and luckily at a gas station he'd found someone with a car popular enough that it blended in with every other vehicle on the road.

"I'll dispose of him accordingly." He grinned. "I won't leave anything for Daddy Winchester to follow."

xxxOOOxxx

Dean's eyes blurred with the writing on the page. Again he flipped his hazy gaze to the Latin dictionary before turning back to the page.

They'd been at this since Sam had driven off in the '70 Dodge Charger, Bobby had long fixed up and stored in the garage. Sam had taken a day to pack up the things he'd need for the month and get accustomed to the way the car drove. He'd left that morning and now it was mid-afternoon. The sun already was starting it's decent down.

They'd been at this since Sam had driven off in the '70 Dodge Charger Bobby had long fixed up and had stored in the garage. They had said awkward goodbyes then Sam had driven off with the protesting engine. Dean was beside himself. It had practically been 9 months since Sam's girlfriend had died, and in that time he had not left his brother's side. Now without the kid everything seemed so quiet, he seemed almost without purpose. He steeled himself. He had a job, and moping wasn't going to get that done.

His head swiveled though at the sound of his ringtone, though. Research forgotten he scrambled up from his chair and closed his hand around the device. He got calls from family only. His father and Bobby were already here that could only mean that Sam was calling. He had only been on the road a few hours though.

"Sammy?" Dean sounded breathless as he flipped open the phone and pressed it to his ear. "Don't tell me the engine gave out on you already?"

" _I'm not, Sammy. But it's good to know you two are still close."_

The voice sounded familiar and made his heart soar, but Dean felt the air leave him all the same. He turned the phone away from his head and nearly fell over in shock as he confirmed the name. Cassie. They'd left on bad terms, and here she was calling him up. He put his phone back to his ear. "Cassie? Is everything okay?"

" _Um, not particularly."_ She sounded off. _"I was wondering how far out you were from Missouri?"_

Dean had to think a second to separate the woman from the state. Although with the woman's personality she surpassed the size of the state. He swirled his mind to the map of the US and thought of the miles he'd have to speed to get there. "Um, probably about 10 hours or so. You need some help?"

" _I don't know. My- uh- my dad died."_ There was a hitch in her tone.

"God, I'm sorry Cassie." Dean's voice took an honestly pained tone. He wished he had been able to reach through the phone and comfort her. Hell, despite the obvious pain in her tone another part of her wanted to pull her through the phone and 'discuss' a few personal matters. He sobered his thoughts though. "What happened?"

" _It's- it's weird. I'm not sure I know what's going on. But if what you told me was true, then it won't seem so weird to you. I remember what you told me about strange deaths. I think I may have something for you."_

"What is it?" Dean met eyes with his father and pointed to the phone to his ear. His father nodded and waved his son off.

" _My dad was in a car accident, only there's one set of tracks."_

"Cassie, maybe he got distracted and ran into something? Not that I'm discrediting anything I'm just thinking everything through."

" _It's not! He wasn't!"_ She took in a deep breath and calmed herself. _"It's not that cut and dry, Dean. My dad is number two. His friend before was run off the road. They are both black, and they both died on the same stretch of road. Plus, they show signs of being rammed and back ended. Only like I said. One set of tracks."_

Dean padded slowly to the living room. "Okay, so more than a little weird."

" _Yeah, and they both saw the same black truck. Dad claimed it would appear and disappear. He was scared, Dean. It was almost like he thought he was being stalked."_

"Did he talk about a driver?"

" _I don't know he said, and I didn't ask."_ She breathed in heavy. _"I just don't know, Dean. None of this makes any sense, and the only thing I can figure is if what you told me is true. Then it starts to make a hell of a lot more sense. If you weren't totally bullshitting me before, then I think I need your help."_

Dean rubbed a hand across his face and sighed. "And I'll help. You know I'll always be there for you, Cassie. Like I said though, I'm about ten hours out so I'll be at most a day."

" _That's fine, whenever you can get here."_

Dean absently grinned. "On my way now."

" _I'll probably be at the press office, or at my mother's home. I'll text you the addresses while you are on the way. And Dean, thank you."_ She inhaled a jagged breath. _"I said some awful things and I didn't believe you. You probably hate me."_

His heart ached. It was amazing just how much she underrated herself. So many times in the relationship she'd vocalized just how amazed she was that a _pretty boy_ like him was interested in her. But she wasn't a plain jane. She was beautiful inside and out. Sure they fought something awful, but she stimulated not only lil' Dean but his mind as well. "Stop. I know how crazy it sounds and I was partially hoping you would be mad. It would be safer if we both hated each other, at least for you. I uh-" He stopped himself. "I'm heading there in 10 so send me the coordinates- I mean send me the address and I'll be there."

He imagined her eyebrow curve upward and her smile at his slip up. _"Of course Captain Winchester."_

xxxOOOxxx

"So you are going on a hunt?" Bobby wiped oil from his hand on an equally messy hand towel. He leaned up against the doorframe of the boy's room and watched at his oldest as he shifted around the room and packed up a duffle with his things.

"Uh- yeah. A friend called and needs help." Dean didn't look surprised at the intrusion.

"The way your daddy has his nose pressed in those books I don't think he's going to get up and join you. At least while Sam has determined himself too dangerous to be around us. He's not going to stop ever looking for that miraculous cure." Bobby surmised.

Dean shrugged. "Well I haven't asked, but that's what I'm figuring. Besides I don't want him off the job. Someone needs to try. Anyways from what I heard it's going to be a simple salt n' burn, at least once I figure out who it is."

"You mean what you heard from Cassie?" Bobby grinned. "Your dad said you seem to have a thing for her. I mean you are dropping _everything_ to go help the girl. She pretty?"

"Oh shut up." Dean rolled his eyes. He stuffed the last of his cloths in the duffle and dragged his Taurus with its pearl grip from under his bed, and his serrated blade from under his pillow. Both were stuck on the top of the bag.

"She must be real pretty." Bobby widened his grin. "You going to help her even though she could be a witch?"

Dean startled. "What?! She's not a witch?"

"I don't know, boy." Bobby made his face serious. "You know women, with their hex bags and love potions. Bet you get this _crazy_ high you can't get down from every time she's near."

Dean made a point to zip up his duffle loudly and petulantly. One of the worst things his uncle did was shoot back words he'd previously said. He never knew when to expect it either. Somehow his uncle just stored dialog from previous conversations and was able to whip them out and use them at inopportune times. "Eat me. It was my first love."

"Well I'm joining you. We can take my Chevelle." Bobby put up a hand. "If I'm correct- and I imagine I am- it's in cape Girardeau? Where there are curious car accidents killing off respected members of the black community. So, let's take your precious Impala."

The look Dean gave his uncle was unkind. "Who invited you and how'd you find out so quickly?" his eyes narrowed as an idea of who it was, was made clear. "Dad…"

"He means well. Told me about your girlfriend, and where she lived. I narrowed it down." Bobby smirked. "Is it so surprising that your dad researches the women you find so interesting?"

"Yes! Why would he do that?" Dean did look surprised. Sure he imagined his father took interest but to go as far as look up information on every woman he took past a one-night stand was unfathomable.

"Same reason you looked up the dirt on all of Sam's girlfriends. Their parents, who they had been with, where they came from. Never know who's lying, or who's a crazy person." Bobby opened his hand and dangled his set of keys from his pointer. "So Chevelle?"

"Chevelle." Dean grunted and pointed at his uncle. "So long as you are ready to go in ten. It's a long drive."

Bobby shrugged. "My car's all packed up. Changed out the oil, filled up the tank. She's ready for the road. I'm just waiting on your love-sick ass." He turned and headed towards the stairs. "Oh, and no Mexican fast food on the way over. You two boys get gassy with one burrito."

Dean rolled his eyes and pulled the duffle over his shoulder.

 **(So you liked it then please drop a review or leave me a PM. If something doesn't add up, it isn't interesting then please tell me. I can ramble in real life and if I am rambling here, well that makes sense so tell me.**

 **Sam's powers will be explored more but next chapter. He isn't quite at Missouri's yet. He will be though.)**


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**(This chapter you're going to see a lot of italicizing. If you haven't read any of my other chapters or stories, that means a dream, a memory or the "other" line on a phone call. Sooo… yeah fair warning.**

 **And I didn't quite make it to the 4000 word mark. But everything fit so neatly that it's just going to be a few hundred short. Ya'll can handle that right. I'm working on 17 now so hopefully by next Saturday I can catch up, and be a little ahead of myself.**

 **ANNDD of course I have to thank everyone who reviewed. lenail125 and FriendlyTuesday you are beautiful beautiful '67 Chevy Impala's. 'N doncha forget it.)**

 **Chapter Sixteen**

 _Sam opened his eyes and he was gone from the room he'd been in previously. Now he was in a narrow hallway with painted on doors. They were all different patterns and different shapes, but they were the same dull grey pallet. The walls had picture frames that hung empty. The only door that lead out was at the end of the hallway. It hung open and very real looking with vibrant blue paint on the door. He had to get to it, leave whatever bizarre place this was._

 _He started at a walk towards the door. It didn't take him long to realize that he was getting no closer to the end. It was an endless hallway. The more he walked the duller, painted doors he passed but the vibrant, blue door at the end of the hallway stayed the exact same distance. In a panic Sam sped up. He lengthened his walk, and his breath caught in his chest. The way out kept moving he couldn't get out. He didn't even know where he was._

 _Speed walking turned to running. Full speed running towards the door. The door designs kept passing and blurring as he rushed towards the little blue door. His run startled to a walk when the lights in the hallway shut off and the door at the end of the hall was the only thing illuminated. He picked up to the same speed he had reached before though rather quickly. His impulse read to reach the door._

"Why?" _A man's voice echoed loudly from seemingly nowhere._

 _Sam startled again this time to a stop. He looked up at the ceiling. He looked down to the floor. He looked around at the painted doors. "Who's there?"_

"Why do you want to go to the door?"

 _Sam paused his thoughts why did he want to go to the door? He thought hard about why, when the impulse to want to make it to the door increased. "I need to get out." He simply screamed. "I need out. I need to get out."_

"Why?" _The voice pressed._ "Why do you need to get to the door? Did something tell you to?"

 _Sam ignored the voice. He pumped his arms and raced towards the impossibly reached door. Sweat poured from him. He had to make it. He needed to make it._

"Okay, I'm calling it." _A second, different voice echoed in the space._ "Stop let him go."

Sam gasped and lurched forward in the chair the momentum from his mind seeming to infused in his own muscles. He breathed heavily his chest rising and falling wildly as he looked around the room getting together his bearings.

"Hey, sugar." A hand lightly touched his shoulder and he leapt away from the touch. He spun and faced the danger. It was Missouri. His mind switched to the second person in the room a man with graying hair and a sad expression on his face.

"Sorry. It-" Sam inhaled a large breath again. "I forgot what we were doing."

The man stood up. "That's the point, Sam. You're supposed to repel me, not give in to my wishes."

"This is the second time, Fred." Sam put a palm to his aching head, ignoring his hand getting slick with his own sweat. "I've not done this before. This is- new."

Missouri reached down and gripped the water bottle she'd placed there before the beginning of the practice. She pressed it into Sam's free hand and nudged it in an urgency to drink it. "Jones. He's right, it's something that'll come later. Right now you have much more practice than he's ever gotten. We'll try this again." When the man didn't move away her eyes flashed. "Later Jones. We can't push him like this. He needs breaks too."

"His mind needs to practice. He's too dangerous without it." Fred argued.

"You are not too old that I can put you over my lap." Missouri snapped.

He looked shocked up until a wicked grin crossed his face. "Would you Missouri?"

"Why you cheeky." Missouri smacked him hard on the shoulder. "Out. Out now. MR. Jones."

The man walked away grumbling to the kitchen, however the cheeky grin did not leave his face. Sam watched him leave and deflated. "He's right. I should have taken you up on the offer to train when you first put it out as an option. Maybe I wouldn't be such a bother."

"You are not a bother." Missouri soothed. "And you are getting there. How long did it take for you to physically reach your father's goals?"

"You know already." Sam raised an eyebrow. The second the thought about his 12th birthday she got the image of his father proudly telling him that he was ready to go on a hunt. Of course Dean had paled. As proud as his big brother was of the situation he was beyond worried as well about it.

Missouri grinned. "Point being you were in your double digits. You don't wake up one morning and find that you suddenly can juggle. It takes practice; years' worth of practice."

"I don't have years to practice." Sam spat. The urge to run pulsed through his veins. "I have this demon coming after me and my family and I can't let him near. He has to leave me alone. And all these things awakening in me I have to control them or they'll control me."

"Seriously, child. Drink the water." She waited until Sam had twisted off the cap and taken a large dose. It gave off a slight minty and lemony scent, and Sam wrinkled his nose his nostrils flaring. He'd been exposed to more herbs since he'd realized the demon had been attacking in his dreams and was becoming weary of them. Her entire being felt for him. "Just some lemon balm. I gave you a small dose to help calm."

Sam nodded and inhaled a little softer and slower this time. "It's helping."

"Natural sedative." She motioned to the chair. "We already mentioned boy, that this is a crash course. We don't expect you to pick up on it immediately, we just need you to pick up on the basics. The way your power is showing you should become a natural at controlling the impulses yourself."

"That's not what Fred seems to think." Sam put his free arm over his knees and dangled his hand off.

"Jones is a pushy know it all psychic who is impatient and cheeky as hell." Missouri picked up her tone so it would float across to the kitchen. The faint response of _witch_ seemed to echo back. "He means well though. There was a time when he wasn't in control of what he had. Cost him someone near and dear. Now he sees you and he doesn't want that to happen."

Sam shifted and capped the water to put it off to the side. He sighed and ran a heavy hand through his hair. "It's just I know what this is doing to Dean…"

"The separation?" Missouri didn't get a clear read on his meaning.

"That and not being able to help me; with this at least. I had a problem in school I went to Dean; educational or otherwise. I needed advice on a girl I went to Dean. I needed cloths or food…" Sam cut off his meaning clear. "I want this part over so he doesn't feel useless anymore. Then maybe I can feel normal like my family-" He'd never imagined in a million years that he'd want that kind of normalcy. He'd take hunting over being hunted by a demon and possessing freakish abilities any day.

Missouri cocked her head to the side. "You are not jealous are you Sam Winchester?"

"What? No- I-" Sam groaned. "Jealous isn't the right term. I just don't wish this on anyone else, most of all myself."

"Life isn't a fairy tale. We get the cards we're dealt and we deal with them. Now I know it's not fair. I know what it's like to not have normal and want it. In school kids didn't want to play with me because I was weird. It took a long time but I embraced what I was." She put a hand on his shoulder. "Use what you have, baby. Be a benefit to the world with the abilities you possess."

Sam gave the woman a thin smile. "Thanks." He opened his mouth to talk more but snapped it shut when his phone went off. He reached down and looked at the caller ID. Dean.

He'd been calling his brother every morning, keeping the big worry wart updated with every breath and every mental and physical practice he'd endured the five days he'd been there. So far it had been all mediation the mental simulations had been added just the day before. He could tell his brother missed him but there was no reason for his brother to call again. Unless he needed more help with the case he was on for his ex-girlfriend.

"Dean?" Sam questioned the second he'd picked up the call. "Is everything-?"

" _No time."_ Dean interrupted. _"Hallowed ground- when a spirit crosses hallowed ground-"_

Sam felt all worry about his abilities go away. It sounded like Dean and Bobby were in trouble. "It dissipates, it gets destroyed. Or at least it should."

" _Should?"_ Dean breathed harshly.

"Very high chance of it being destroyed." Sam corrected himself. "Like 90 percent."

" _And what if it's an old church. Something burned down years ago?"_

Sam figured Dean was meaning the church that the spirit, Cyrus had burned down those years ago. Unless there was something his big brother hadn't mentioned. "Hallowed ground is hallowed ground. So long as the church once stood there-" The call ended and Sam pulled the phone immediately away from his face to avoid the dial tone. "Well he's at the tail end of the case. He's using his urgent tone." Sam looked over at Missouri his concern reading clearly.

"Don't worry. Your brother and uncle are very capable of taking care of this."

xxxOOOxxx

"You don't seem very capable of helping me out here, Winchester." Bobby growled into the phone. He'd been hung up on twice now and with a big black ghost truck on his ass. He'd already been rammed twice. "If You hang up on me again I will poison the chili."

" _Shut up, you already do. I need to know where you are."_

Bobby wished the kid was in front of him so he could slam his head into the wheel at least once. Gently. Well semi-gently. "You mean besides on a backroad chased by a ghost truck?"

" _What street are you passing by?"_

"I don't know. I haven't been stopping to watch the scenery." Bobby growled. He tightened his hand on the wheel.

" _Well find out, old man."_ Dean growled back.

Bobby looked at the large truck looming behind him. He pressed on the gas and looked forward again for a sign; any sign. He locked eyes a street sign as it was illuminated by the trucks bright beams. "Deccatur Road; about two miles off the highway." He glanced at the truck behind him again. "Headed east. So what's the big plan?"

The truck sped up and bumped into the side of his bumper nearly causing him to lose control of his car. He'd have to pound out dents later on his car. He listened intently to the silence and grew angry.

"Now would be nice, princess." Bobby's patience was lost.

Apparently their spirit, Cyrus Dorian, was a racist truck driving maniac who had killed many black men 40 years ago. He had gone on a lynching spree after he found out his ex-girlfriend, Cassie's mother, had left him for a black man, Cassie's father. What burned him even more was that she had been seeing him while they were still together. The last man taken in the spree was Cassie's father, Martin Robinson. His reign of terror ended when Martin retaliated and instead killed Cyrus. In a panic, he had called his friends and they had hidden the body in the truck and sunk it in the swamp. Years later the mayor, someone who aided in the cover up, destroyed the man's home causing the spirit to awaken and get his revenge. Now everyone was dead except the woman who had scorned him and the daughter of the product.

Which was why Dean and Bobby had dragged out the truck from the swamp and burned the body found inside. After it had dried of course. Only it hadn't done the job it had merely pissed off Cyrus Dorian and that was why Bobby's Chevelle was being dented in a high speed chase.

Dean finally responded. _"Just gimmie…wait okay. I have it. Take the next right."_

Bobby eyed the next turn and knew he would be taking at neck breaking speed. "Okay." He pressed the phone between his knees and put both hands on the wheel. He twisted hard and turned sharply pointing his car now south. "Taken, now what?"

" _You see another road ahead?"_

Bobby didn't. "No." He kept his eyes peeled though as he tracked the progress of the massive truck. Despite the light casting disturbing shadows on the road he was finally able to see the unlabeled road that sat perpendicular. "Yes. I see it now."

The truck gained speed and matched Bobby's own nearly side by side now. He gritted his teeth.

" _You'll want to make a left."_

"What?" Bobby growled. How on earth was he going to do that? "I have him ON my left. How am I supposed to do that?"

" _Do it!"_

He died on this shitty stretch of road and he'd haunt the kid's ass till kingdom come. "Okay." He waited until he was on the crossing road and pressed hard on his gas. He watched as the truck sped passed and he turned nearly losing control of his car again. He inhaled only once he'd picked up the same speed he'd had before. "Now what?"

" _Go seven-tenths of a mile. Exactly that."_ Dean informed his uncle.

Bobby squinted at the skeletal shape of a building up ahead. "The building? Is that-? That's the church...aint it boy?"

" _Yes."_ Deans sounded relieved. The plan was clear to his uncle.

He drove his car into the space that once had been the small church. He killed the engine and opened his door half putting his body out to look around for the truck that hadn't seemed to follow him on the turn. "I don't see him yet."

" _Stay where you are."_

"I'm not stupid." Bobby growled. He startled when the truck reappeared from the direction he had come. He faced the truck not balking as it revved the engine. "I take it there was no way to burn the truck?"

Dean sounded nervous. _"Did you think there would actually be a way to accomplish that? You must be delusional. The truck kill you yet?"_

"Not yet." Bobby stated dryly. "He's mad though." Mad that they had burned his body. And to prove he was the car shot forward and rushed towards Bobby. It took every ounce of knowledge that he was safe inside the church to not turn tail up and run.

The car didn't stop as he rushed forward and Bobby inadvertently shut his eyes. And the truck hit the space where the church once stood and dissipated into a cloud of smoke. Bobby opened his eyes in time to see the cloud around him lift up. The phone he'd been clenching on his side nearly fell with relief. The chance of him getting out of the situation alive had been high but he still couldn't help but feel worried.

Once he'd pressed his phone to his ear he heard Dean on repeat asking if he was okay. He inhaled and finally spoke to calm the boy's nerves. "Ease up. I'm still breathing, and all limbs are intact."

" _Thank God. I thought I had killed you with my plan."_

"You may have well nearly killed me. You hung up on me twice, and kept me hanging how long between the calls?"

" _I called Sam to double check my plan would work and I called Cassie to get the location of the church. I saved your ass."_

"Saved my ass? You could have saved my time. I knew that hallowed ground would have that effect. Why didn't your fool brain ask me?"

" _I didn't think about that."_

"You foolish- moronic-"

" _You're the one who hopped in the car and told me to burn the truck. The truck that has been sitting in a swamp for the last 40 years. I mean it took two hours for the body to be ready to burn, so a truck takes what thirty minutes? Who is the real foolish moron here?"_

xxxOOOxxx

"So everything is good?" Sam asked his tone clearly anxious. He stirred around his coffee and tried to ignore the overly large plate of blueberry pancakes that Missouri had placed in front of him. He was trying to ignore her glare for not touching them too but that was turning into a losing battle. "I mean you got off the phone with me and never called back."

He heard Dean chuckle, but his tone held exhaustion and regret. _"You sound like a girl. Chill Samantha, I needed some facts and you gave them beautifully. Ghost truck is dead. I've saved the damsel-"_ Dean paused and Sam couldn't account for why until he continued. _"-and Cassie and everything is perfect."_

Bobby's growl wasn't missed. Neither was the threat of leaving 'his sorry idjit butt on the side of the road and letting him walk all the way home.'

Sam couldn't hide the sarcasm in his tone. "Perfect huh?"

" _Yes, perfect."_ Dean paused. _"Well, perfect is a pretty big stretch for us. I'd say in one piece and not killed by a racist spirit controlling a ghost truck."_

"And Cassie?" Sam glanced over at Fred who was wolfing down the food he'd received. For an old man he was pretty active.

" _Cassie is safe."_ The regret overtook his exhaustion.

Sam thinned his lips and felt sorry for his brother. "You said bye again. Didn't you. Came over saw her again and told her goodbye."

" _Sam. We ain't girls and you are not doing my hair or nails. So I am not discussing feelings right now."_ Dean bit out.

Sam was right though. He knew it. Dean had shown up in Missouri, the state, and seen her again. Feelings had risen…they probably had sex, and Dean had left her. Probably for good. The trouble they were having within the family wasn't something that a special woman needed to be dragged into.

"I'm sorry."

" _Sam you don't stop this chick flick now I swear I will hang up."_ Dean's tone rose, and Sam could hear Bobby stop his tuneless humming to chuckle. He could only imagine the glare Dean gave his uncle.

"Okay okay. What do you want to discuss, _mom?_ " Sam grinned. "Oh sorry the regular discussion, right? I've had a glass of water, and a healthy bowel movement today. Oh and I brushed my teeth. The top, bottom, the back of my teeth; oh then, get this, I flossed. How friggen' cool is that?"

" _No breakfast?"_

"Missouri gave me some, but I really don't feel like-"

" _You will eat your breakfast."_ Dean stated firmly. It was the same authoritative tone he had used on him every time Sam did something disagreeable. _"You are too skinny as it is. Hand the phone to Missouri, I'll get her to make you eat."_

Sam looked up and saw Missouri's eyes narrowed at him. He tried not to laugh at the splotch of pancake batter on her cheek. When she was serious, she was serious. She had once whacked Dean with a wooden spoon when he had started eating before she'd placed everything on the table. Dean had bruised. "Chill. She's already giving me the death stare."

Fred looked up casually from his plate. "She'll go for the spatula next. It'll not only sting but it's been against the oven so it's hot."

Sam rolled his eyes. He cut into the massive stack and took a large bite. "Phere phu apphe ow?" Sam knew Dean didn't need translation.

" _Please don't tell me food is flying out of your mouth right now just so you can make a statement."_ Dean sounded irritated now. Oh yeah his mother hen was definitely showing. _"Whatever, so long as you eat what she gives you then I don't have a complaint."_

"It's like-" Sam took the precious seconds to count. "-five pancakes. Who can eat five huge pancakes?"

Dean snorted. _"Your height and weight Sasquatch, you should eat that and a side of bacon."_

Sam rolled his eyes. "Please. It's too much. And just so you know; not everything in life can be solved with bacon, Dean."

" _You take that back, you girly haired bitch!"_

"Make me, Jerk." Sam completed.

"Okay! Sam eat your breakfast." Missouri clucked as she plucked the phone from his hand. She pressed it to her ear and rolled her eyes down at Sam as she nudged the plate. "I've got to train your brother, and you two arguing isn't making that possible, so hang up Dean!" Dean must have said something rude because she scowled and shut the flip phone. She dropped the phone on the table and steadied Sam with a glare.

"I'm eating, I'm eating!" Sam raised his hands in defeat and cut into the ridiculously large stack.

She studied Sam before nodding and walking away. Fred looked over at Sam and nudged his plate silently towards him. Sam forked one of the pancakes onto the plate and was prepared to stick on a second, but stopped the second the woman started speaking. "Good, second your finished you can start meditating. Oh and one more pancake leaves your plate Sam and I am whacking you with my spatula, you too Jones."

 **(Like it, leave a review, or drop a PM. I would love to hear what you have to say. Oh and advise me on any mistakes. I already caught myself stuffing** _ **cloths**_ **not** _ **clothes**_ **into Dean's duffle the other chapter. Geeze it irritates me whenever I make mistakes.**

 **More training next chapter I promise, and ooohh do I have a doozie of a revelation for you. I didn't even think up of the idea until I started typing it out.)**


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**(So there are quite a few breaks in the story. Transferring from one person to another. The best way that I can explain the transfer is this chapter kind of played out like an episode for me. Where Sam is talking to Dean on the phone one second and then the camera pans to Dean and what he's doing. That's kinda where I was going with this. Sorry if the little breaks are too much.**

 **Thank you FriendlyTuesday for the review! You are amazing.)**

 **Chapter Seventeen**

Blood pooled from Sam's nose as he concentrated on the large glass. If he hadn't been with two experienced psychics he would have been very concerned. As it was however, it was informed to him that nose bleeds were very normal for the inexperienced psychic, AKA himself.

He continued focusing on the cup urging it to move a single inch.

It had been two weeks and Sam hadn't been able to fight off Fred's mental attacks, but he finally had been able to fling away a plastic cup. Not move it as much as launch it off the table. It had taken one shattered window, and one lost plate of bone china (Missouri hadn't been too happy with that. Next day all the fine china was hidden away.) After the plastic cup they had upgraded the challenge. Try to move a heavy glass mug. Sam hadn't been able to hide his shock. Plastic solo cup sure. That weighed nothing. When the mug had been placed in his hands however he had balked at its weight. This was a much bigger upgrade than he was expecting.

" _It's too heavy!"_ He had complained only to have the cup placed in front of him with the strict order to move it. Not too far, but at least an inch.

So there he was sitting at Missouri's dinner table an impossibly heavy mug placed in front of him and his nose bleeding something awful. He kept flinching every time blood made it into his mouth, but kept his focus. At least he was doing that. Without the meditation and without the previous practice he would have lost focus the second a drop would have entered. This was something of an improvement.

Tangy blood entered his mouth again and Sam kept staring at the cup. But something else was rising in him and as much as he wanted to tamp it down it was too infectious. Irritation. At the mug, at the two psychics next to him for making him do this so soon after such a small feat. God, this was so stupid.

Then his focus was lost when the mug cracked rather than move. He leaned back in the wooden chair and exhaled the pent up breath softly. He moved to wipe his sleeve on the river of blood that had stopped coming from his nose when a damp cloth had been put there instead.

"You're supposed to move it, not break it." Fred muttered. He stayed away from the kid in the corner of the kitchen while Missouri fussed over him. "You got angry didn't you. Emotions don't help with this stuff kid. You have to let it go. Feel too much of something and it gets out of hand."

"I know! I don't know, though, why you upgraded from some stupid Solo cup to the _impossible cup_ but-" Sam stopped and flinched another crack appeared loudly in the glass. He ignored the twin stares. "Calming. I'm calming down guys."

A mug was pressed in his hands and Sam instantly recognized the scent of lemon balm again. He took a sip and felt the irritation start to melt away slowly. He remembered the time that he had asked her instead for a beer and she had dismissed the idea quickly. Alcohol clouded the mind, she had said. It made one's ability either dampen, or out of control depending on the psychic. Either way it wasn't a good effect.

"We're going back to the Solo cup again, Sam." She glared at Fred. "That wasn't what this experiment was for, however."

"Then what?" Sam asked careful to keep his cool.

"You kept your focus for fifteen minutes." She patted him on the back and urged him to take another sip from the mug. "Despite the blood, and the distractions we perpetrated around you, you didn't budge once from your goal. And no, you weren't supposed to move it. Think of it as exercising a muscle."

Sam exhaled again more tired than irritated. "You could have told me that."

"Would you have been as determined if we had told you?" Fred asked his own anger dissipating.

Sam rubbed at his head. "I guess not." He took another drink from the cup and put it down on the table. "Can we take a break. My head is going to split into two."

"Of course." Missouri headed towards the entry way to the kitchen. She stopped when she noticed Fred wasn't following. She started to scowl, but stopped when Fred fixed her with his own stare. They didn't say anything but Missouri eventually left, leaving Sam and the older man alone in the kitchen.

Fred walked over to the table and joined Sam across from the table. He laced his hands together and looked down at them like they were an intricate design. "I know you think I'm hard on you at times." He cleared his throat when Sam notched up an eyebrow. "I know I _am_ hard on you, but I don't want you making the same mistakes that I have. I was inexperienced once and it cost me someone. Someone I cared about very dearly."

Sam studied Fred's expression. He finally said, "I'm sorry," once he'd seen the man was sincere.

"It was a long time ago. I was young and inexperienced like yourself. I just know that you have people you care about, and I don't want you losing anyone else. Jessica wasn't your fault. As much as you blame yourself for it, there wasn't anything you could have done to stop it." He held up his hand when Sam protested. "There _was_ something you could have done but it would have put you at risk too and she would have died all the same. So that would have ended in the same tragedy. So no nothing you _really_ could have done. Your father, your uncle…your brother…You have to do this to protect _them._ "

Sam looked into Fred's eyes, and nodded. "I know. That's why I'm here."

"And that's why I'm tough on you." Fred cleared his throat. "You ever wonder why Missouri called _me_ to help you out?"

"You're a strong psychic." Sam shrugged.

"There are many strong psychics around." Fred informed Sam. "Many of them much closer than I am."

Sam kept staring at Fred his gaze careful. "Then I don't know."

Fred Jones turned away from Sam and looked outside the window. Or would have if it wasn't boarded up. "Sam, my father died when I was a baby." He held up a hand again when Sam moved to apologize. "I thank you for that, but that's not the point I'm getting at. My father died when I was six months old, in 1931. He died in my nursery, and according to my mother he was pinned to the ceiling."

Sam forgot all about his headache. Sam forgot about everything except for the man sitting across the table from him. "What? He died how?!"

xxxOOOxxx

Dean got the text late afternoon while bent over his baby. The small chirp his phone had him push himself up and wipe his hands on a rag before inspecting the text.

' _Check out a house fire. Jones Family 1931.'_

Dean notched up an eyebrow but didn't question his brother's request. He closed up the hood of his car and walked towards the house after shutting up the garage.

xxxOOOxxx

Sam put down the phone and fixed Fred with a stare.

Jones didn't question why Sam had been texting. He simply continued. "Missouri knowing about so much of the demon's plans. It isn't all her ability, its partly my experience with it all too."

"Okay okay. Back up." Sam massaged his temple.

Fred flicked his hand towards the coffee maker and the 'on' button turned green. The machine whirled to life. "I'm going to need a cup. How about you?"

Sam would need twenty. "Yeah. Coffee sounds good."

xxxOOOxxx

Dean typed in the key words to the search engine and clicked on the third link down. It was an image of an old newspaper article. He scanned the article and hitched in a breath. "Dad!" Dean called instantly, he looked around for his father and figured he had retreated to the bedroom. "Dad get your butt here now!"

xxxOOOxxx

"My mother never told the police or the journalist, but the exact night I turned six months she heard me crying. My father had just come home then. She was in her nightgown already half asleep, and he told her he would check on me. When he didn't come back, she shifted out of her bed and went to check on the both of us." Fred took a long sip from his coffee not minding how hot and black it was.

"And saw your dad on the ceiling." Sam finished.

Fred nodded. "She figured they would think she was crazy. She didn't tell anyone until I turned twenty and started showing signs of abilities. Lightbulbs would burst when I got angry, and later on the radio would change stations with my temper as well. I didn't know what was going on. My mother became scared of me. She started cowering away from me. This one Christmas she got me more gifts than I needed, more than she could afford and I knew that she was doing it just to appease me. To make sure that I stayed content. And I got angry about that and…"

Sam didn't push for Fred to finish. He waited patiently while the man took another sip of his coffee.

"Well the tree fell over, and the star that we put on the top stabbed through her. I knew I had done it. I knew I knocked over the tree. The police though said that the stand had been faulty, that one leg was shorter than the other. And they weren't wrong, but If I hadn't-" He stopped again and tightened his hand on the mug.

Sam tactfully remained quiet.

"A woman read the story in the newspaper and came to visit me at my mother's funeral. I got mad at her and told me to leave me alone when she told me she understood what I was going through, but she left a business card with just her name and a number. After I shattered a window in the home, and nearly split a bed in two I called her and got training. When I was under her wing though she informed me I wasn't the only one. So I looked, and I noticed other people my age dying. They were all born the same year as me. Some with house fires and some without. Some of them were committing suicide. Some of them were being shot by police in crazy stories involving crazy claims. Some of them were being put away into asylums. I snuck into a facility one time and read through what one had to say, and they mentioned yellow eyes, and a gun."

"Did any say what he wanted?" Sam asked.

"No, none of them revealed that. The doctors all thought they were just- insane. Then it got quiet. I don't know what happened, but I thought it was done. Everything was back to normal. I continued to train with Edith and once I could handle the abilities given to me I went back to my normal life. Until 1982."

"When my mother died." Sam said quietly.

Fred nodded. "I read about your fire. What your father claimed. The police and the journalist all attributed it to stress but I knew better. I read about other babies, and other fires. All in different states. One in a different country. It was happening all over again."

Sam sucked in a breath. "How many of your generation are left?"

"Five. One is in a psych ward, after he lost his mind. One is suffering from cancer, and probably has a few months, if not weeks. One is in Mexico enjoying the beach. Another is currently mourning the loss of her husband. And the last is unaccounted for. So I can only hope they are still alive and not dead. Although we are 75, we can't live forever." Fred swirled his cup and watched the liquid whirl.

"How do you know about them?" Sam asked. Maybe one he built up his ability he could track down the other children. Maybe they could all band to together and avert- whatever was going to happen.

"Edith. She tried to save as many as she could. Managed to take in ten kids and teach them to control their abilities. We stayed in contact after we went our separate ways. We returned when she died for her funeral. It was like we were all siblings."

Sam glanced down at his coffee sure that had cooled. He didn't care though. His attention had been diverted. "Can you all 'sense' each other?"

"In a way." Fred got a thoughtful look. "It's hard to explain." He mulled over it for a while. "The ones who had visions had visions of our deaths. So if you got a call you knew to be careful in the following days. There were a few who could communicate with their minds. They were linked up to specific people though. There was one guy who kept us all together, and he could 'sense' us, but that was his ability. Edith used him to track down a good number of us."

Maybe Sam would wake up one day to find that he had that ability loaded on top of his other two. "Okay. That makes sense. I-" So many questions swirled in his head. "Why didn't you ever search out the kids you knew about? The ones who had the telling house fires? Did you ever-"

"Whoa hey. One question at a time." Fred smirked. "First off I did search you out. Although I never really found you until you found roots in South Dakota. I knew though that your abilities wouldn't show until you turned _of age_ so there was little point in freaking you out sooner. By the time I had found you, Missouri was your life line. I let her be it and focused on other children. The obvious children."

"Is that what you and your- siblings did?"

"Most of us." Fred shrugged. "Sampson went a little crazy in the head. Azazel started abusing him day and night in his mind and he lost it."

"Hence him being in a mental facility." Sam inferenced. "Did you ever get communicated to?"

"No." Fred stated honestly. "Edith told me that once my abilities formed I had a block. It was too strong to get through for anyone. Even _him_. That's why I imagine he never used me for whatever purposes he had."

Sam scowled. He wished he had been gifted with a block. That certainly would have helped him all those sleepless nights. "And no one ever got a handle on what he wanted?"

"No one not even the older generations." Fred stated.

xxxOOOxxx

The second they had found Fred Jones and linked his house fire with their own, the immediately found many other families losing homes and mostly mothers. Funny thing was a good number of the 'kids' had gone off the radar. Just upped and disappeared one day. Bobby was the one who found the generation before theirs. Dean couldn't believe it. 1881. Back when the US was only boasting 38 stars on their flag. Through the use of library portals, and archives from the US government, they found newspaper articles talking about house fires. Strange occurrences with men suddenly turning 'demonic' and moving things, or seeing things before they could occur. Whatever this demon was planning he had planned it a long time ago.

Dean scowled and moved away from his father and uncle as they put their heads together. He flipped open his phone and pressed three instantly dialing his brother.

" _You check it out Dean?"_ Sam instantly asked not wondering who it was and what he wanted.

"Yeah, Sam this goes back to 1881. Back when we only had 38 damn states. This is just- this is just-"

" _Crazy."_ Sam provided for his brother. _"Unbelievable, preposterous, absurd, ludicrous."_

"Yes, walking thesaurus. All those and a bag of nuts." Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "This is a whole different scale than we ever imagined. I mean every 50 years there are a range of house fires involving surviving infants and at least one dead parent. Then like clockwork in 20 or so years people born that year, house fire or not, disappear." Dean froze. His hand tightened on the phone. "I am coming to you Sam."

" _What?"_ Sam blurted. _"You said you'd give me a month. It's only been two weeks!"_

Dean scowled. He didn't care. "You just heard me, right? Once the kids are in their 20's they disappear. You are one of those _kids_ Sam. You are 24 dude. He wants you. And that goat man ain't getting you. So I am coming to you whether you like it or not."

" _I've got Missouri, and Fred-"_

"Fred? Fred Jones?"

" _Yeah Dean, how else did you think I knew about the fire?"_ Dean could see his little brother rolling his eyes.

"What else did Mr. Jones have to say?"

Sam spoke at length about Fred's abilities his past. Finding Edith, finding out he wasn't alone. How he was trying to help the next lot of kids. Sam finally inhaled after filling in Dean with every detail. Once finished told his brother, _"Dude, he's powerful. I'm really good with him, and Missouri. Not to mention her house is warded for everything from fae to toe fungus."_

Dean didn't know "I don't give a crap if she has a ward to prevent pregnancy, Sammy. I'm driving down there."

" _Dean! I was able to move a plastic cup. That's the best I've done in the two weeks. Besides that, I have Missouri's permanent hatred for breaking her window and one of her mother's china plates. I am not ready to have you here. If I hurt you- if I hurt any of you-"_

He was already headed up the stairs towards his room to pack up a bag. "Tough luck. I'm staying at Missouri's with you whether you like it or not."

Faintly Missouri's voice came through the line. _"I'll set up a room."_

" _Wait what?"_ Dean could imagine Sam's face twisting in anger. _"Missouri you can't- you can't be serious, you're the one who said it could be potentially dangerous for anyone while I was training. HEY! MISSOURI!"_ Sam gave an irritated growl. _"I am training Dean. I am fine. Please don't-"_

Sam's protest faded and quieted. Dean couldn't account for it until a different voice spoke through it. _"I'm setting up a room for you, sugar. If you distract him while he's training I am going to whack you so hard you'll fly all the way back to South Dakota. You hear me boy?"_

"Scouts honor Missouri." Dean grinned. With her agreeing to this there was no way Sam could protest now.

" _Missouri! How- He can't-"_ Sam's protests continued but in the background.

He heard Missouri chuckle. _"You and your brother are both forces of nature. There was no way I was preventing him from showing up."_

Sam's voice grew louder as she passed the phone back. _"He is not coming."_ That must have been directed towards her. _"You are NOT coming."_ And that towards him.

"Try and stop me." Dean grinned before ending the call.

xxxOOOxxx

The woman scowled and leaned up against the kitchen counter. On the table sat a scrying bowl and a wide blade of questionable metal. Something that couldn't be seen. In haste she scooped up the pair and dropped it underneath the sink.

Whenever the fool host's daughter came to visit with her own miniature hoard she'd have to hide all her _things_ in spots that they wouldn't think to look. Her guest tonight however wouldn't snoop around too much. She could afford to hid it in such a simple spot.

"I would have something on with a lower neckline if I were you." A voice echoed from behind her.

In shock she nearly fell over. She settled herself before closing the doors and straightening. "I wish you wouldn't sneak up on me like that." She frowned, although little else emotion was put into the statement. One did not offend Azazel and live. That was a solid rule.

"What's the point of _popping in_ if I don't actually pop in." Azazel shrugged. He swiped an apple from her kitchen counter and took a large bite. His current host sported salt and pepper hair, but it was clear how much he worked out. Had once worked out.

She smoothed down her work outfit a little self-consciously. "I take it you found out who is killing them?"

"Oh did I." Azazel's eyes flashed. His hand tightened on the apple, causing some of the skin to bruise. "A hunter. He's tracking them. But according to my sources Sam should be getting the information and do something about it. Maybe I won't have to lift a finger."

The woman wanted to snort. Lift a finger and make someone do the job for him was what he probably should have said. But once again, last thing she wanted to do was offend him. "He has shown himself to be quite capable even though he hasn't figured out what he needs to do quite yet."

He seemed pleased by her confidence in his favorite. "Yes indeed. As for the job, I'm giving him the time he needs to train properly. I'll get him to work the job once he's ready."

"Speaking of- ready, I was wondering. How much longer do I need to be here." She spoke quietly and carefully. "I'm not doing much here besides entertain their father. Although trust me he isn't that bad, in fact-" She stopped when Azazel started looking disgusted. "-I mean."

"No it's okay. I don't judge." Although he very clearly was. He took another bite of the bruised apple before continuing. "And I need you here as long as possible to monitor the family. If you hadn't stuck around I wouldn't know that Deano is on his way to visit his brother. It's small but it helps."

She hid her disappointment. "Of course. I do what I can to keep you informed."

"And you do it very well."

Roles like this were tedious. She preferred working from _higher_ positions, where she could give orders and have things done at a snap of her finger. Before the CEO of Candle Wicks Inc had _mysteriousy_ over dosed on prescription medication, she had been living the life in suits and working from a desk. Now she was at the mercy of some little bell, a cook, and taking orders from useless country hicks. The sex was good, but the job; the job she could do without.

"He is here." Azazel glanced at the door.

Before she could question she heard the engine of the truck get louder as it closed in on the house and cut off once it parked. Azazel reached out and tugged the hem of her collar down so that she showed more cleavage. She wanted to swat away the hands but withheld the urge.

Azazel disappeared at the sound of a knock, but his mirthful tone echoed in the home. "Have fun."

She walked towards the front door finally able to roll her eyes at her boss's antics. She put her 'face' back on however when she slid the chain away from the door and undid the top bolt. Once opened the elder Winchester was very evidently standing at the door. His salt and pepper hair tousled from having his windows down on the drive, and his eyes darkened at the sight of her.

"Heard you were having engine problem, Sally." He stated hungrily as he swept in and shut the door behind him. His arms wrapped around her waist and his mouth nipped hungrily at her neck.

"Mmmmm. Damn right it does." She shut her eyes and drank in the feeling that she got only when he was around. There was something about him that just made her shiver. Oh yes, this was the part of the job that she really enjoyed. "My engine is ready to purr, John Winchester."

 **(So you reached the end. You can always leave a review or drop me a PM. Dislike something, something doesn't add up- did I make an error somewhere? Do not be afraid to tell me. One of my biggest peeves is reading through these things again and again, only to post and find that I missed something. So help me clean up my stories. And thank you!)**


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**(Souless666 thanks for the review!)**

 **Chapter Eighteen**

 _Sam opened his eyes and startled. He was in a narrow hallway. How he had gotten there he wasn't sure, but the doors along the hall were the same grey pallet only painted on, all bearing different designs. His hand scraped a simple one, one boasting the number 225 a dent painted in the middle. The next was much more elegant with swirls and little delicate leaves 'carved' on it. Where was he? Sam took the time to look around and get his bearings before he panicked._

"THE BLUE DOOR."

 _The voice nearly made Sam jump. He spun around and found at the end of the lengthy hallway was a door. Unlike the others it was a vibrant blue, very real, and very open. It was the way out._

 _Sam started to walk forward. He must make it to the blue door. His feet picked up speed and he started at a stumbling run once he realized he wasn't getting any closer._

 _Then he completely stopped._

"What are you doing?! Go to the blue door!"

 _Oh goodness, every ounce of him wanted to run towards the door. But he started questioning the reality around him. A hallway with painted doors? And very clearly he wasn't making headway on the blue door. No matter how far he went the door remained the same distance. Why was he running uselessly for something he couldn't accomplish?_

 _Sudden pain in his head nearly knocked him over, and the mad impulse to run towards it invaded every poor, every ounce of his being._

"I SAID THE DOOR!"

" _Why?" Sam finally asked pressing a hand to his head. "Why do I need to go to the door? Where am I? Who are you?"_

 _More pain pressed him down to his knees._ "Do NOT disobey me!"

" _Who are you?" Sam bit out through his teeth. "And why do you want me to go to the door. Why are you hurting me? Stop it."_

"Make me." _The voice mocked._ "Make me leave you alone."

 _Sam gave a grunt and fell to the ground hands pressed to his ears traveling up to his temples. "I can't. Stop it!"_

"FRED ENOUGH!" _A final voice shattered through the pain-_

-and Sam's eyes snapped opened to find himself in the living room of Missouri's home. He was curled up at the legs of a chair sporting a headache of Mount Everest magnitude. Missouri pressed a hand to his shoulder and tried to pass down a bottle of water but Sam leapt at her touch and he heard the sharp sound of something very delicate and very glass shattering.

"Oh hell." Missouri looked up and her lips thinned. She considered the object then she considered the boy. Sam must have won out because the bottle was in front of him again and with the other hand she was swirling patterns on his back. Just like Dean did. The thought of his brother started to calm him. "Sit up and take a sip, boy."

With her and Fred's help Sam was sitting up his chest heaving wildly. The water bottle was pressed to his lips and he took in a sip. The relieving effect of the lemon balm washed over him and he took another hungry sip. The water bottle disappeared and Sam felt his hand raise and a tissue pressed into it before it was firmly fixed to the spot just beneath his nose. He must have started bleeding again.

The hand moved but his remained where it was pressing the tissue to his dripping nose.

"You went too far." Missouri snapped. "He's been at this two weeks and you pushed too far this time."

Fred's voice faded slightly as he stood up and away from Sam. "Missouri, you are missing what just happened…"

"You mean watching the poor boy slide to the ground in pain." She snapped again, her tone holding little patience for him. "I saw. I saw all of it."

"No, he didn't do what I asked." Fred kept his tone low and unaggressive, but his point had Missouri snap her mouth shut into a thin line again. "I even caused him to want it more, and he started questioning the reality I had created. He didn't quite repel me, but he repelled the impulse."

Missouri still looked unpleased with the man but didn't offer any more to him either. "Hey you doing okay, Sammy?"

"Peachy." Sam muttered. Hand fell away from his nose as he looked up at Missouri finally. "What did I break this time?"

"My Aunt Madera's glass horse. It was hand blown in 1875. Whatever, It's okay." She smoothed back Sam's hair. "Need a little more of the lemon balm?"

Sam shook his head. "The pains going away. If you give me five, I'll be fine."

"We are done anyways." Missouri scowled. She stopped Sam's protests. "It's nearing lunch time and I have to start that, besides you did fantastic today. You've made a lot of headway." She squeezed his shoulder before rising to her full 'miniature' height. "We don't want you passing out from blood loss."

Sam pulled himself back up to the soft chair he had originally been sitting on. "Okay. If you insist." He slouched onto the cushion. When he dragged away the tissue again and found the blood had stopped he breathed a sigh of relief. He was getting very tired of bleeding. "You're not going to charge me, are you?"

Missouri opened her mouth to ask what but her eyes lit up in amusement as she suddenly _knew_ what he was talking about. "Boy, those things that you have broken aren't in your price range. Don't worry though. I've learned my lesson everything is being packed away and hidden tomorrow. Now you can just go back to break my windows and shatter my lightbulbs."

"Deal." Sam grinned leaning his head back. His head popped up at the sound of his phone. It trilled and vibrated on the coffee table once then died back down. Missouri gave Sam a stern look when he sat up then stood up to get it. He offered her only a shrug once his hand had fit around it. He glanced at who the text was from and looked back at her. "Sorry, business."

"Keep it short." Missouri snapped her mood back.

' _Samo. Call me.'_ Was the short and sweet response from Ash. The mullet rocking, nearly MIT graduate. Their father had given Ash all of his notes. Every single one on the demon Azazel. Ash being brilliant with a computer had promised to call any of them whenever he got something.

Sam pressed the button to initiate a call and flopped on the closest chair. It rang once and Sam heard Ash's chill surfer tone. _"Samo, my man."_

"Ash. How's the Roadhouse?" Sam questioned.

" _Well it's been busy since noon. Hunters really enjoy hitting the bottle early don't they."_

"Whenever we can get a release, we take it." Sam chuckled hoarsely.

Ash paused. _"You cool? You sound like you're coming down with something man…"_

"I was just- exercising." Sam lied. "What do you have for me?"

" _I was looking for more of the children, as you call them, and I came across something. It looks like they are being hunted."_

"Hunted?" Sam asked sharply. He swiped a hand through his hair and tried to ignore the pulsing pain in his head. "What do you mean by hunted?

Ash sounded just as out of breath as Sam. _"Three of your 'children' are dead."_ Ash expanded. _"All stabbed, I sent you an email with everything fully detailed."_

A husky voice sounded from the line. Between her and Ash it painted a picture Sam didn't want to imagine. _"You done yet?"_

" _In a minute, Candy."_

"Okay first off, I really hope you have pants on right now, Ash." Sam blurted. The breathy laugh he got eluded to him _not_ wearing anything at the moment. "Seriously dude, I don't want you calling me while you're in the middle of having sex."

Ash laughed again at Sam's horror. _"Chill, compadre. Everyone has sex, it's natural."_

"Yes, everyone has sex, but not _everyone_ needs to know when and with _who_ you are having sex. Geeze man. That's sick!" Sam didn't want to imagine anything that had and was going to happen. "Look, get back to your activities. I'll take a look at the email. Thanks."

" _Sure can do Samo."_ Ash giggled. Ash fricken' giggled. The line hadn't been closed by the time he must have turned back to _Candy_ and asked, _"So where were we?"_

Sam was the one who ended the call quickly before he could hear any more.

xxxOOOxxx

The links shown were interesting to say the least. First few articles were confusing. They showed the deaths of one Miller family after another in unique situations. Father dying by sitting in a car full of exhaust. Uncle dying by being beheaded by a closing window. The mother was last to die after she stabbed herself in the eye. It made sense once he read the article on Max Miller, her stepson. He had been suspicious of their deaths but walked away. Only to be stabbed in some parking lot days later. Max had been born 1982. Just like Scott Carey. Found dead in a parking lot too. Stabbed.

The last link Sam plugged in a pair of headphones and listened to what sounded like a session with a counselor. How Ash got a hold of this information was beyond him. This kind of stuff was usually private. Unless Ash hacked into the man's computer. And the man loaded recorded sessions there.

Sam pressed his hands into his earphones as the man, Scott, claimed he could do things. Electrocute things. He looked even more shocked when Scott claimed he had seen the demon in his dreams, telling him to do _awful things._

Sam inhaled when the doctor pressed.

" _He wants the door opened."_

Sam's own questioned echoed the doctors."What door?" He wanted to shake himself for asking it out loud but forgot to when the man answered.

" _The door to hell."_

xxxOOOxxx

Ellen's Roadhouse wasn't crowded, but there was a good number of hunters in the place though. Taking advantage of an afternoon drink. Dean couldn't blame them. He'd stopped purely to say hello to Ellen and stretch his legs mid drive but a stiff drink would be a bad way to work out the stress.

"Dean!" He turned his head from the rough looking clientele to the blond rushing his way. He lips sat in a wide smile and she dried her hand on a rag hanging from the waist of her jeans. "It has been way too long since I've seen you."

Dean allowed himself to be pulled into a hug. "Yeah, since Thanksgiving, the year before. Still giving your mom hell about hunting Joey?"

"It's Jo, and yes. My dad hunted, all these morons hunt. Hell, you hunt and somehow haven't died in the last 60 years." She grinned at that last statement.

"Okay first off small fry." Dean saw Ellen step out of the back and tipped his head in a silent hello. "I'm Batman. I am the friggen' night. And second I am only six years older than you. If your mom wasn't here I'd have you in a headlock."

"Still afraid of my mother?" Jo didn't lose the grin.

Dean turned his voice low before walking away from the woman. "Who isn't…Although I'm sure Bobby would love a spanking from her."

"Ewww." Jo's face scrunched up. "Dude my mom."

"My uncle." Dean stuck his tongue out at Jo and took a seat at the bar. "Ellen! You are looking beautiful."

"Winchester…" Ellen rolled her eyes. "What has you in my neck of the woods?" She looked towards the door and around the bar before she looked back at Dean. "Where's Sam? Aren't you two attached at the waist?"

Dean held up his pointer finger to indicate he wanted one beer. She uncapped and slid a bottle his way. "Sam's good. I'm driving to meet him in fact."

"He on a hunt?" Ellen poked.

"Kind of." Dean stated blandly. "It's a weird situation."

Jo leaned up on the counter next to Dean and took a long swig of his drink before Dean could swat her away. "How is he doing anyways?"

"He's got a handle on- it." Dean stated unsure of what to say. Last year's Thanksgiving had been canceled. Sam was still depressed, and it didn't seem right to initiate such an occasion. Besides none of their hearts were in it. They were one-hundred percent focused on getting the kid up and running again. "He was in a bad way after-"

"After Jessica." Ellen said softly. Her heart had bled for the boy when she found out that his girlfriend had died. And word in the community was that it was the same thing that had killed their mother. "I tried calling him after, but he didn't pick up."

Dean scrubbed a hand across his face. "He wasn't in the talking mood. It took a while to get something out of him that wasn't guilt."

"Guilt? The boy didn't do a thing. It was the demon that got your mother!" Ellen's voice raised a pitch.

Dean took the precious seconds to take a drink from his beer. "I know that. You know that. The whole goddamn world knows that! I don't know that he will ever figure that out though. Some part of him is always going to hold on to the fact that he could have done something. When in reality he could have done something and ended up just as dead."

Jo's face fell, and Ellen looked concerned at Dean's emotional outburst.

"I've put a damper on things now haven't I. Whatever. Sam's up and moving and working towards a goal now. Winchester's just have to have goals to keep us going." Dean masked whatever had come out and set his face with a wide grin.

"Yeah, like a mouse running in a maze." Ellen's face didn't lose its concern. "Whatever. I have a bar I need to tend, and very disturbed hunters who want something to forget." Ellen poked her finger at her daughter and growled. "And enough with the hunting bull crap. Don't try and push Dean to take you on a hunt. He knows better."

Jo pulled a Sam-worthy bitch face. "Twenty-one, mom."

"So go to school like your daddy planned." Ellen snapped.

"Geeze mom!" Jo followed her mother from the other side of the bar her words traveling through the place getting interest from the other hunters. Or more like she was getting interest from other hunters. Sure Jo was pretty. There was no denying it. But when guys looked at her with _that_ look a protective big brother surge went through him. She was more than a piece of meat. She was a strong woman. She was his little sister.

"Nothing to look at. Go for women your own age." A familiar voice rumbled. Dean looked up and Gordon Walker, a common face seen at the Singer's Thanksgiving. He was the one who complained about the turkey and always sided with Rufus on whatever team was playing.

Jo scowled up at the man in the back and her voice quieted from the argument she was having. She gave one last scowl towards her mother and headed towards the back of the bar towards the pool tables.

Bobby always grumbled about him. Bobby quote _"didn't know why he invited the fool if his cooking made him so miserable"_ unquote. Really Gordon was just another hunter that had wormed his way into the old man's heart just like Rufus.

Sure he was a bit of a religious nut. He'd met worse.

"So Ellen then." A cheeky bastard in the back called.

"So Ellen what?" Ellen dropped a drink in front of a hunter and threw the man who had called out a stern glare.

Dean threw his gaze back in the crowd where he saw a burly man sink down in his chair. "Nothing."

"Damn right nothing." Ellen grumbled. "If you want to be served here again, or walk out of here it better be nothing."

Gordon chuckled and dropped his beer on the spot next to Dean and took a seat. "Tough woman."

"The toughest." Dean nodded and took another drink. He wrinkled his brows when it came up empty. Stupid Jo. Barely twenty-one and draining him dry of his alcohol. "I was eighteen. She once caught me sneaking into the back of the bar and taking off with Budweiser. I got the tar beat out of me for the effort. My dad didn't lift a finger. Told me I shouldn't be stealing. I shouldn't be risking the beating." He dropped the bottle heavily on the counter. "I suspect he was more afraid of her and didn't want to step foot in the problem."

Gordon waved a hand at Ellen from the other side of the bar and she rolled her eyes firmly at him before nodding. "Most likely." Gordon scratched at the label on his beer. "Bet the woman keeps a gun under her pillow."

"I do, and a battle ax." Ellen grinned as she walked back over with two more bottles.

"Knew you had good taste." Dean nodded along.

"Suck up." She grinned at Dean before walking into the back.

"So you on your way to see Sammy?" Gordon asked his tone suggesting small talk but the second the topic changed to his little brother the man's stance on the stool stiffened. "How is the kid anyways? What's he been up to?"

Dean raised an eyebrow but kept everything casual between them. His spidey-senses were tingling, and that wasn't good. He could have been overreacting. Gordon was a hunter. Gordon was a vampire enthusiastic hunter and a good guy really deep down. He just didn't like to show it. Maybe he was just drunk. "Geeze with the way everyone is asking about Sam, I'm going to assume that they like him more than me."

"No just worried for the kid. Know he lost his girlfriend. I think we've all lost someone here. We all understand." Gordon drained his first bottle and moved to his second. Only he grabbed Deans. As Gordon's hand closed over the top of the bottle Dean smacked away his hand.

"Wrong one, Gordon." He had enough of people drinking out of his bottle. Jo was one thing. Gordon, needed to mind his own.

"Sorry." Gordon put his hands up defensively. "Going to protect that thing to the death, huh. Anyways where are you meeting up with, Sam?"

Dean knit together his eyebrows. "Okay now your just getting weird. You know it stays in the family. Besides we aren't going off on a hunt, if your goal was go party crash. Stick to your vamps, Gordon. Maybe you won't be so weird next Thanksgiving." Dean slid off the stool and took his beer with him. He ignored the eyes boring into the back of his head.

xxxOOOxxx

Two beers and Dean was already feeling the effects. Gordon's weirdness forgotten, a few games of pool, and 200 dollars more in his pocket he was pretty much done with the place. He had already spent way too much time there. And for what. He had to meet up with Sammy in Lawrence.

He stilled on the name for a second trying not to sway. The name had once put a shiver down his spine. Now after the closure he got with his mother moving on, he wasn't so disturbed by it anymore. It still wasn't one of his top places to visit, but he didn't loathe it.

Whoa. If he was allowing himself that thought middle of the Roadhouse when he should be getting his butt to his brother, then the alcohol was affecting him something bad. He must have been off the stuff too long thanks to his sober father, and trying to hide the stuff from his brother.

"Gotta go, Joey." He saluted the blond and deposited his second and last beer on one of the tables. "I have got to go or Sammy's going to get his panties in a wad."

Jo opened her mouth to protest the nickname, but stopped. "Hey Dean. You should probably detox an hour at least. You are swaying on your feet. One cup of coffee."

Dean waved her off. "I'm good. Really. I just need to start towards Sammy. I've been here too long already."

"No really." She put a hand out and grabbed Dean before he could walk off. "I'll call Sam; tell him you'll be a little while yet. Just, go up to the kitchen upstairs and just sit for a little while. I want to pump some water and coffee into you. You'll be no good to Sam dead on the side of the road."

"Ye of little faith." Dean smirked. "I'm fine. Scouts honor." He purposefully set himself to walk solidly as he shook off her arm and started towards the door. "I already paid for the drinks. You take care of yourself Joey."

Jo intended it to be under her breath but it was just barely audible for the retreating man. "Yeah…you too."

Dean focused on walking straight. She was right. He wasn't in the best condition, but he'd stop at a coffee shop and get something to wake him up. He'd be fine. He'd driven under worse conditions. Week after his birthday 2001. He and his father had been hunting a leprechaun in Massachusetts. Bugger got the best of him and his father very nearly and once the thing was dead Dean as left with a concussion and his father was bleeding out like a stuck pig. Dean had driven his father all the way to the hospital despite the sweat running into his eyes, his unfocused gaze, and the drum solo by Bohnam pounding in his head.

Once he was out the door and it was closed behind him, he allowed himself to stumble and leaned up against the wall to prevent himself from falling. Maybe he would go back inside. Take Jo up on that coffee. Two beers and he was worse than a girl at prom after the punch bowel had been spiked.

"You doing okay?" A voice rumbled above him.

Dean looked up and saw Gordon. He could have sworn the guy had left an hour ago. "Uh yeah. Doing great. I guess the alcohol was a little more effective today." Dean's mind swirled to when Gordon had gripped his bottle, and the conversation about his brother came back up. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. "I'm good though. So…"

"I can help you to your car. Or better yet. I could drive. Tell me where the kid is and I'll get you to him safely." Gordon's intent wasn't good. Dean couldn't figure out why though. He'd been present in his life for six years and the man hadn't pricked this much concern in him before.

"I'm good."

"Sammy wouldn't want you wrapped around a tree." Gordon insisted.

Dean lifted an eyebrow. "I said I was good Gordon. In fact-" yeah a coffee with Jo was the better option right now. The way that Gordon's hand had touched his bottle had him questioning exactly what he had drank. "Jo offered me a coffee. I'll detox a little and take off."

Gordon's hand slapped onto the door and held it shut when Dean went for the knob. "I don't think so, Dean."

Dean brought his hand to his waist band to grip the handle of his gun, but his movement was sluggish. Oh yeah the fucker had put something in his drink for sure. Now was the time to scream like a girl and get help. Only Gordon anticipated that and his fist was swinging towards Dean's face.

Dean didn't have the coherency to block.

 **(Liked it? Leave a review! Or PM me I have it pretty much set up for the ending but you got an idea that could be better? I'm up for it.)**


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**(So for anyone unclear on it, this is the episode Hunted, from season 2. Of course it is tweaked to fit into the story and add interesting information that you, and Sam and Dean should know. It won't last long. Just like Home I'm just visiting not staying a week on the subject.- oh and I noticed that I've been switching the year Sam's born. Its supposed to be 1983, but for some reason I keep flipping back and forth between '82 and '83.**

 **lenail125, Souless666 thank you for the review! You both are amazing!)**

 **Chapter Nineteen**

Sam drove like a bat out of hell. He could feel Fred next to him willing the car to go slower but Sam wasn't giving in. After the call he'd received he wasn't going to stop for anyone.

" _Sam! Thank God you picked up!"_ God she had sounded so relieved. She sounded concerned. And he had even heard sassy Jo in the background asking other hunters harsh questions. Of course Sam had asked what was wrong. _"Your brother. He left about two hours ago, but when Jo took out the trash she saw that the Impala was still here."_

" _What?!"_ Sam had blurted. Dean never left his baby behind.

" _Jo was telling me that your brother was off, he was swaying when he left. I don't know what happened, but he isn't here."_

For some reason Bobby and his father were inaccessible on the phone. His father not picking up the phone wasn't weird. His uncle not picking up the phone meant something was wrong, only putting more stress on Sam.

It had taken a lot of convincing on his end but he had wrestled the keys to the Dodge from Missouri and tucked his Baretta into his waist band, and thrown the pump rifle in the back seat. Fred stepped out from the door and had lifted a hand keeping the car from going once Sam had started the engine. Sam glared at the man. Sure he was dressed like Mr. Friggen Rogers with that button up shirt, and the cardigan. That didn't mean Sam wouldn't hurt him. Manually Sam had rolled down the window and growled. _"Get out of my way."_

Soundlessly Fred had slid inside the door and released the car. _"Let's go."_

Sam assumed now the way Fred was clutching hook on the roof that he was regretting that choice. Very much so.

Sam's phone rang and Sam didn't take his eyes off the road. "Who is it." He bit out.

He waited for Fred to flip the phone up and look at the caller. "It's your brother."

Luckily they hadn't made it to the highway yet. All Sam had to do was find a spot on the side of the road wide enough to place the car then killed the engine. On the third ring Sam swiped the phone from the man and pressed it to his face. "Dean! Where the hell are you- Ellen just called and said that you left your car in the parking lot. What the hell?!"

" _Chill, Samantha."_ Dean soothed, although Sam clearly heard hints of tension in his brother's tone. _"I ran into this girl Leia. She drove this sweet cherry red 1980 Thunderbird and I had to give her and the car a spin."_

Sam bit at his lip and nearly drew blood. Shit his brother was in trouble. He hated the 1980 Thunderbird. Said it was a blemish in the line of classic beauties produced. "So you stopped for a girl. Dude we were going to meet up in Haddonfield. You scared the crap out of me when you didn't show."

" _Well see here's the thing, Sammy."_ His brother started. _"I went back to Baby and she wouldn't start. I would have gone to Ellen, but it was late, and I didn't want to bother her. If you don't mind coming and picking me up, I can have Bobby tow Baby back."_

Dean would never abandon his car. Even if it was going to be towed and it was in the Roadhouse parking lot he wouldn't leave it. Besides he took care of it too good for it to ever give out on him. "Yeah. I can do that. I'm maybe about four hours away. Think you can handle that."

Dean stayed quiet for a second. _"Yeah I got a handle on it. I'm gonna send you the address to the place. Just meet me here."_

"No problem." Sam ended the call and gave a growl. "Shit, he's in trouble."

Fred looked over at Sam in curiosity. "How could you tell?"

"He said Leia, among other key words and phrases." Sam rubbed a hand across his face. "He's in a deep."

"Leia?" Fred asked confused.

Sam started up the engine once he collected himself and pulled back on the road. "Yeah. I'm his only hope."

xxxOOOxxx

His phone was flipped closed and Gordon tossed it to the side somewhere. Dean didn't bother following it. Tied down to the chair he couldn't do much anyways.

"You're making a mistake." Dean scowled. He tugged uselessly on the restraints, but didn't stop glaring at Gordon. "Whatever you think your accomplishing with this bull crap, it isn't going to be good. It's just going to get an innocent kid, my innocent brother, killed."

Gordon steadied Dean with a curious stare. "I wonder. Do you know what he is?"

"You mean besides a giant." Dean scoffed. Internally though he didn't like the tone. He didn't like the question. What did Gordon know. What did Gordon think his brother was? From a crazy zealot's point of view Sam could be something 'evil' with the powers he contained. "I don't know what you expect him to do, but kid's hunted five times. He's green in the gills, but he's improving."

Gordon dragged over a chair and sat down in front of Dean. He put the rifle he'd shouldered before into his lap. "True. I imagine being out of the business he is a bit green, but that's not where I'm taking it. I don't know if you know this, but your brother he's a demon."

Dean gawfed. "Right. Dude sees a puppy and starts cooing."

Gordon's face twisted from impatient to irritated. "You know; you Winchesters are cocky asses."

"Actually got it from my mother."

Gordon ran an impatient hand across his face. "I trapped this demon once. Had him for days. I got what I needed from him and I was going to leave him, just like that. Only problem was I had sealed up a good portion of the room with bricks. I had a few more to go, and he wouldn't stop begging. Bastard knew wouldn't be found for years. Little shit decided he didn't want to stay there in the rotting corpse so he starts spilling. Secrets. A lot of them. One of them I found very interesting. You see this demon has been putting together couples and at the right moment and they have babies. When the baby is a certain age demon sneaks in and bleeds into the child."

Dean's eyes widened. Bleeds into the child? If Gordon was telling the truth that could have been the source of Sam's powers. He collected himself in what he hoped was time. "Demons lie Gordon."

"Not this one. This one was shitting in his pants." He tapped Dean with the barrel of his rifle. "Besides I asked. I asked for names. He listed a few. Then when I went after the first one I realized that he was right. This kid. He had killed every member of his family. Was going to get away with it too then I avenged them. Scott, he killed the neighbor's cat. One touch, and I knew that he in the right time would also turn just as rotten. Another curious name was on that list. And had you just told me where he was, you wouldn't be here. He says your brother is favored."

Dean scoffed. "Please. This is coming out like a telenovela."

"See apparently your mother was a member of the Campbells. They are tough bastards, while your father is this Man of Letters Legacy." He smirked at Dean's confused look. "Best I can figure is they were some secretive book club. All the members are dead, so I've got shit on them. Then he mentioned that your blood line is rich, goes all the way back to Cain."

"I'm sure everyone is linked to Cain somehow." Dean laughed. "Everyone is related to George Washington by some fucking way. Besides this is getting sillier by the minute. Next thing you'll tell me is that I have an evil twin." To be honest it was getting more concerning, and unclouded by the minute. He wasn't going to tell the bastard that.

Gordon looked concerned as he eyed the middle Winchester. "I don't want to have to kill you too. You aren't in this, neither is your father. In fact, think _like_ your father. He would do what would need to be done to protect everyone. These kids, your brother, they're meant to do something awful. Your dad would-"

"Dad wouldn't _ever_ turn on any of us." Dean growled. "Never. That's not what family is Gordon."

Gordon scowled. "I did."

Dean felt his heart stutter. Did he just hear right?

"Want to know why I am so- how did you phrase the question when we first met… _butt sore_ about vampires?" Gordon asked. He stood up and kicked back the chair to the corner. "I didn't know about the world. I was clueless. I was some dumb kid going to school and my sister came home one day and there was something unholy about her." Gordon's mouth ticked. "She was all I had too. I was raising her after our parents had died in a plane crash. I locked her in the room and that's when a hunter came by. Saw her get changed, but couldn't stop it. He took care of the nest but she had gotten away. Come home. He handed me a vial of blood and told me that this was from the one who changed her. I mixed it with a few things and I could change her back."

Dean had heard of a cure. It was rare. But you get the blood from vampire who changed you or the person you loved you could change back. "And-"

"After he left I killed her." Gordon's lip twitched again.

"You had the cure." Dean jerked on the restraints his pity leaving him just as quickly as it had come. "You didn't save her when you had the chance. How is that remotely similar to my situation?"

"She was tainted." Gordon stated simply. He recalled her screaming and throwing herself against her restraints. He'd tried to talk to her, tell her he could save her and hateful words had spilled from her. He knew then that she was gone. She had gone dark, and nothing could bring her back. "She was evil, she didn't want the cure, she didn't want me anymore."

Dean jerked again against his restraints, hatred spilling over his face. "You were her big brother. She had a- a disease running through her- she wasn't in control of what she was doing. I thought you were crazy before but now, now your just insane."

Gordon looked unpleased at how little sympathy he got. "It had to be done."

"Had you given her the damn cure then she would have calmed down. Thanked you even. Only after it had run its course though." Dean's jaw twitched. "You know what Gordon. You get Sam; you kill him, you better kill me because every second of every day I am going to be thinking of ways to kill you."

"You are a good hunter, and a good kid, Dean. Don't let it come to that." Gordon sounded almost pleading now.

"Screw you." Dean spat his face reading nothing but hate. "Screw you and your tragic back story. Your nothing but a crazy zealot who sees evil in places it isn't."

Gordon sighed. "I really hoped it wouldn't come to this. I hoped you would have agreed." He dug into his pocket and dragged out a bandana. The middle was stuffed in Dean's mouth and tied off in the back. "Maybe in the next few hours you'll become a little more reasonable." He patted Dean's shoulder. "I however have a trap to set up."

xxxOOOxxx

Before Sam could exit the car and head into the bar, the door to the blue VW Bug was opened and a woman stepping out. She bundled closer to her coat and looked nervously at Sam before heading over to him. Sam moved to grab his Baretta from his waist band, on edge thanks to his missing brother and Fred put a hand to stop him.

When Sam looked to question Fred, Fred answered, "She's one of you."

Sam flicked his head back to the woman walking over to them. She looked the age. Certainly a possibility.

She stopped a good distance from them. "I- I have a warning for you."

"What warning?" Sam's voice remained deep and impatient.

"It's going to sound crazy, but you're going to die." She tugged on her shoulder length hair and looked like she was trying to convince herself she was doing the right thing. "Geeze, coming out like that it does sound crazy. I should explain myself."

"What can you do?" Fred asked patiently. "Just visions?"

The woman sputtered and grasped for reality. "Uh- just visions? Just visions?" She turned around like she was looking for a camera team pranking her. "I uh- yeah. Just friggen visions. How do you know anyways. Why are you not surprised? Oh God, you both are crazier than I am!"

Sam put a hand to his head. "Look calm down."

"Calm down. I drove miles to come here and give you a warning. I haven't even told you what I've seen and you've guessed that I have _seen_ something." She looked ready to run. "God what I am I doing here?"

"I have visions too." Sam stated quietly. Since drinking the tea he didn't wake up in the middle of them and they were become harder and harder to differentiate between dream and vision. More often than not he confirmed its truth, once someone had died. Sam hadn't been happy with it. He could prevent the deaths, but Dean was happy that he wasn't being tortured in his sleep anymore. Even Missouri claimed that it was a side effect that was much needed. "You were born 1983? Have a house fire when you were a baby?"

She looked a little shocked. "Yes, I was born 1983, but house fire? What the hell do you mean by that?"

Her parents hadn't disturbed the demon that night. "Look. Sorry, I'm Sam. I know this is all incredibly weird, but-" but what. He had to get his brother away from whoever had him. But then…if she saw his death. If he died saving Dean, Dean would never forgive him. Maybe she could prevent something bad from happening today. "Look, let's get a table inside and talk. You don't like what's going on you can leave any time."

She agreed and they were seated at the table in the far corner of the bar. Sam had waved off Ellen's beckoning with a raise of his pointer finger.

"So what's your name?" Fred asked. He and Ava stood out from the usual crowd of hunters occupying the place.

"Ava…Ava Wilson."

Sam waved off Jo who had headed in the back to obviously see if Sam was on the war path to bring back Dean. She looked put out by his dismissal but Sam had too many things on his mind. "Start from the beginning."

"God my fiancé is going to kill me for this…" She collected herself before starting. "I uh started having these awful headaches. Then at night I would see these awful nightmares. People blowing their brains out, jumping from bridges. I really didn't think much of it until I saw this guy walking to his car and he got stabbed." She pulled an article free from her pocket and unfolded it in front of Sam. There Scott Carey's smiling face was large and in the right corner. "I saw _him_ die days before it happened."

"Okay." Fred said patiently. He looked a little disturbed though that he hadn't stopped the kid's death. That he hadn't intervened in time to save him.

"Then I saw you. You had this address written on a match book from here. And you were sneaking into the back of this locked abandoned house. You took one step inside and just- exploded." Ava looked disturbed.

Sam could recall all the vivid visions he'd had and just how disturbing they had been. "A matchbook?"

Fred nudged a matchbook that had been left on the table. It was something Ellen did to promote her place; she did ask they didn't use it for illegal purposes though. "You probably were going to write it on the closest thing you could."

Sam scratched at the back of his head. His mind running through everything she had just said. Obviously whoever had Dean was at this abandoned home, and he had set up traps in the back of the house. If the trap was in the back though, he was probably guarding the front. So attacking from the front wouldn't aid him in anyway. He would trigger the bomb and fight when they had been blown. "Thank you, Ava. You actually have just helped me out."

"So you aren't going?" She asked hopefully.

"I can't guarantee that." Sam said quietly.

"I just told you that you go and you die!" Her voice raised a pitch. "Why the hell did I drive this far just to give you the warning. You don't know how much I should be doing right now. Invites, guest lists, and I still need to meet up with my fiancé and choose the caterer."

"That building is where my brother is being held." Sam placated. "With the information you gave me I know what to expect. So really thank you."

"You- are both crazy!" She slid her purse on her shoulder and stood up.

"Ava wait." Sam put a hand on her arm. "What you can do. It's just the start. I know we're _crazy_ but please just listen for a second."

She didn't move to sit down but she didn't pull back her arm either. "There are others like us. And we are all in danger. Fred- Fred here can help. He's helping me get a grasp on what I can do so that I don't hurt people I care about. He can do the same for you."

Ava looked a little put out. "I have a life. I have a wedding. I don't have time for Mr. Miyagi to teach me to wax on and wax off."

Fred slid a card with his name and his phone number. "Okay. You decide you want the help, please just call me."

Sam slid it towards himself though and with a pen left on the table scribbled a second number on the back. "My number is there, too. If you see anything, or need any help just call me. My brother and I we help others in unique situations. We can use the information to help others."

She looked like she didn't want to take the card, but after a second's debate slid her manicured hand around it. "I'll consider it." She sighed and motioned towards the pen with her hand. "Give me the pen and the matchbook." Sam handed her the items and she wrote down her digits. "This is how you get me. Don't call me though, unless it is an emergency. I don't want my fiancé wondering why another man is calling me."

"Of course." Sam nodded.

She didn't offer a goodbye but did offer a small smile before turning around and walking towards the door.

Sam stood up himself. "Let me talk with Ellen, then we'll get Dean."

xxxOOOxxx

His mouth was dry. Which was weird, because the gag between his teeth was soaked with his own saliva. Then again it could be partly the fact that Sam was being led into a trap. A trap where he could very well possibly be blown to bits. In the call though he'd said enough that Sam knew that once he made it to the abandoned home he would expect a trap. He had to hope that Sam was prepared. That he had called in some back up. Surely his father and uncle were called.

Gordon grunted and Dean twisted the best he could in his ties to see what the man was setting up. But still he was unable to see anything. Gordon had been busy the last few hours stringing up wires. It painted his plan out more than if he had drawn a picture. Sam sneaks in the back and triggers the wire when he walks in. _Boom._ Once again Dean hoped Sam was aware enough to avoid that last part. And from the amount of work Gordon was putting into it, he probably laid two traps. One to be visible and nearly obvious, and the other to actually get his brother.

The image of Sam exploding caused unbidden tears to water his eyes. He puffed a breath through the gag his mouth making a disgusting wet sound thanks to his soaked gag. He blinked away the wetness when he heard Gordon grunt again and straighten. The man padded loudly to Dean clearly out of breath from his constructing. He dropped the material he used to set up the traps and scooped up the gun leaning up against the window to create the sense that he was guarding the front. Forcing Sam to use the back door.

"I'm not going to lie. I met Sam many times. I met his girlfriend. He's a nice guy. He's a smart guy. But like my sister he's tainted. Evil touched him and as nice as he is now it won't make up for when his true nature shows through. And trust me his true nature will come through. How long until you think that demon blood inside of him takes to turn that sweet kid into a killing machine."

Dean turned his head away from the man focusing on the dirt and dust on the ground. No way Sam turned into a killing machine. Yes, take down evil. Kill the monsters that stalk the night, but just kill? Never. Kid bled emotion.

Gordon didn't shut up. He kept talking. Damn zealot thought he was some TV evangelist saving the damn universe by screwing over everyone else. "Kids going to see me guarding the front. Probably get a little surprised at who's holding you. Get him all emotional. Then he'll sneak in the back." Dean glanced firmly at the spot on the ground blinking rapidly. "I've got a wire at the door, he'll spot that and trigger it easily, only he won't expect the second one that I've set up."

Dean grunted through his gag. Emotion bled through the simple motion.

"Look I've already told you. You're a good kid. Of the two you're the yang to his yin. The light to his dark. I like your family, despite you guys being some pretty solid assholes. Your father went from rock bottom to sober and has stayed that way. You rebounded from your mother dying and raised your brother, pretty good despite his evil." Gordon pushed away from the window and Dean looked up to give the man a murderous gaze. "Just let this happen. Let me save the world. Do the right thing."

The right thing? Sam had powers. Sam had abilities. Sam was working through everything. Drinking the tea at night. Dampening his visions, and the influences that the yellowed eyed bastard tried to put over him. He was spending the time to train so that he didn't cause disaster by accident. Gordon didn't know Sam. Gordon knew shit.

"About this time." Gordon went back to the window and looked out. He didn't grin but his voice held the high of a hunt. It was a familiar tone that every hunter had. Only Dean didn't enjoy the tone here. That meant that Sam was the game. That Sam was the one being hunted. The kid didn't deserve that. "He's here."

 **(Liked it? Leave a review or give me a PM!)**


	20. Chapter Twenty

**(Thanks Lenail125 for the review. And in response to the one you left on Heroes and Monsters  I do write Dean as mature. I guess, in my own little universe he was snarky and silly, but he also was Sam's main provider and was Sam's father. He's an adult for all intents and purposes.)**

 **Chapter Twenty**

Bobby looked across the cab of John's truck and furrowed his brows at the voicemail the ever shaggy haired Sam had left. He felt bad. After getting the bad news he and John had packed, John's phone must have stayed on silent (as it permanently was) and his own, well it must have been the beeping he'd heard when he was on the phone with Rufus. Sam's call was trying to push its way through and Bobby had been too distracted to end the call with Rufus, and afterwards to call the kid back. Now they were miles away. Too far away to offer help.

"John." Bobby pulled the phone away from his ear and scowled. "The boys are in trouble."

John's hand tightened on the wheel. "What?"

Bobby pressed the button to replay and put the phone on speaker. He turned down the dial on the radio and Sam's voice filled up the cab.

" _Okay, so none of you are answering your phones. I guess I'll go alone, but I should be fine. Ellen says that Dean stopped by the Roadhouse on the way to Lawrence. He left his car in the parking lot overnight, and I'm concerned. I'm heading to Ellen's now. I'll find him don't worry."_

Then Bobby pulled his phone back over and pressed to listen to the next one.

"Shit Bobby, we have to turn back." John started to use his blinker.

Which Bobby promptly stopped. "We're too far out. The kid's trained he's going to help his brother and-" He pressed to play the next message. It was only twenty minutes between the calls according to the voice that spilled information.

" _Fred's coming with me, and I got a confirmed call from Dean. He's being held against his will and someone is using him to bait me. I'll be fine. I'm concerned you aren't picking up so I'm going to assume you're on a hunt, but I'll be fine. I have the address, I anticipate a trap and I'll save the damn damsel."_ There was a grunt in the background. _"We'll save the damsel. Fred and myself. Don't worry about it."_

John gritted his teeth. "Fred?"

"He's another psychic. The guy we heard about from 1931. I spoke with Sam about him once. He's real strong. If anyone can help Sam get Dean back, it's him."

John wasn't convinced. "Dean's my boy though. Dean's your boy. We should still help."

"Sam's only a few hours away and we-" Bobby stopped. They had driven too far away. He couldn't believe he was voting to not help, but they had a bigger situation in Colorado. "Besides the nest has become far too active if they've gone after Elkins. And to have stolen something. It had to have been really good. We don't want something like that in the hands of vampires."

"Yeah…" John stated quietly. "Your right. Sam's got a handle on that."

xxxOOOxxx

The lock picking would have been quiet, if Dean hadn't been holding his breath and Gordon intent on the sound himself. Dean prayed to whoever was listening that Sam would not only see the first wire, but the second as well. The lock clicked off to the side and Dean strained his hearing to listen as the doorknob turned the door creaked opened. And- BANG.

Dean jerked forward himself in surprise at the sound of the explosion. The sound of stray wood slamming around and breaking nearly broke Dean down. His over active imagination created an image of Sam's bones breaking as he was flung. He grunted through the gag wishing his words would form through it.

Gordon crouched down next to Dean a finger needlessly to his lips. "Not yet Dean. There is still-"

Before 'one more' could be said the second explosion went off. This time the force caused Dean to cry out and jolt forward in his seat. A piece of plywood flew past his head and hit the wall breaking into two. In a fit of rage Dean started to scream through the gag. He switched off between begging his brother to speak to him, and muffled obscenities towards Gordon.

Gordon looked pitifully down at Dean and patted at his shoulder before raising up his gun towards the walled off space. "Sorry Dean."

Dean 'screamed' after him. Angry that he couldn't form words. Angry that his brother could be dead. Angry that this entire situation had to happen. His head twisted to the side however when his brother's voice rang out through the shack.

"So it's been you, Gordon…"

xxxOOOxxx

Luckily for Sam Gordon had been looking for a body on the ground. It hadn't taken much to sneak up behind him. Sam cocked his Baretta and pressed it firmly into Gordon's skull. "So it's been you, Gordon…" He bit out filtering out his brother's frantic cries. He'd get to Dean once he'd got a handle on Gordon.

"Got me." Gordon put up his hands slowly, but Sam read the tension in the man's shoulders he wasn't going to go down without a fight.

"Been going after the kids, huh. Finally linked those together. You think we're all just going to sit back and watch the world burn." Sam fought back his anger. Anger meant his head clouded, it also meant his powers went out of control. Not the ideal situation for that. "Not all of us are choosing to be bad. Some of us are retaliating."

Gordon's stance on the 'children' didn't seem to change though. Sam could tell, him mentioning it only made him bunch his muscles more. "How long can you fight it though, Sam. How long until your killing dogs and putting knives in your family's eyes."

Despite anticipating the move Sam grunted as Gordon spun quickly and knocked the gun free from his hands. A second blow followed quickly, a harsh jab at his throat. Sam went down clutching his hand to it and gasping in air. Dean's cries on intensified. Sam was mad at himself but knew at the same time that while he'd been trained, he hadn't been trained quiet like Gordon.

"See your little army of super children, aren't going to do shit to the world. I know what lurks in your heart, Sam. I know what pumps through your veins. You are just as much demon as that-" Gordon was on his way to kick Sam while he was down, and his leg had frozen in midair. The man slid back until he hit the wall grasping at his throat trying to form words.

Sam watched surprised up until Fred stepped into the back door, a murderous look on his face. Fred hadn't even flicked a wrist; he was doing this with purely his mind. Fred was force to be reckoned with. Despite the anger clear in his gaze Fred kept his tone neutral. "Evil? Because we were forced these abilities. You consider that evil. You were planning on blowing Sam to kingdom come all because a demon spilled the beans on a plan not yet completed. A plan where innocents are pawns. What about you?"

Sam scooted back and used the wall to prop himself up while he collected his breath.

"What about your heartless kills. And from the way you talk, killed in the name of God." Fred was raising his voice at this point.

"Fred. Don't- we're not-" Sam finally managed to speak through his aching throat. He walked forward and put a hand on Fred's wrist.

"I'm not going to kill him." Fred stated firmly.

Sam looked to Fred. The conversation in the car ride over coming to mind. They had been discussing humanaine possibilities of handling _the person_ once they had found him. They had come to one conclusion and as awful as it seemed it seemed the proper way to do it.

Sam released Fred's wrist. "Okay."

Gordon looked wide eyed between the pair. He tried pawing away Fred, but a second force shoved Gordon's hands to his sides. Fred placed a hand to Gordon's head and Gordon's pupil exploded in size. The man seized and shook grunting and baying. After a few minutes he stopped and he slumped forward his eyes remaining wide opened, but no longer seeing.

"I'm sorry." Sam said quietly.

Fred let the body go down slowly and delicately. "It's okay, it had to be done. This is the sure fire way to get him off the trail. And if I need to I can bring him back."

Sam nodded. He pointed towards the other room and stated one simple word. "Dean…"

"Go." Fred stated. He clearly wanted to be alone anyways.

Sam stepped carefully through the mess and searched out his brother. It wasn't a long search. Dean was the one squirming and grunting in a chair. Ropes looped to the arms and legs of a chair keeping him down. Sam picked up the pace still wary of stray wreckage. "Dean." He breathed.

He couldn't help the grunt as he crouched down to work at the knots keeping his brother down. Once one hand had been freed Dean set off to undo the other, Sam crouched lower to get to his feet. "Geeze Dean, you let a person get the drop on you, and you call me rusty."

Dean grunted but Sam got the idea of what was being said.

"Jerk." Sam responded still fumbling with the knots. By the time Sam had freed his brother's feet Dean arm was freed as well and he was undoing the knot at the back of his head in haste.

Gratefully he spat out the gag and it landed in a heap on the ground. Dean had so many things he wanted to say. Information he wanted to share, but he needed to know one thing first. "Gordon? You and- whoever's with you-" He stopped on the final word.

"Kill? No." Sam stated quietly. "You doing okay? Nothing is tingly or in pain?" Tied down on a chair cut off circulation. After a while that got painful.

"I'm good. What did you do to Gordon?" Dean demanded. He did start to stretch and flex his limbs though, alluding to aching muscles. "Cuz I swear I'll kill him, if you won't. Bastard won't stop hunting you or everyone else for that matter." He shook off Sam's concerned grip. "I mean it Sammy. The way he was speaking to me, he thought he was some murderous saint on a job from God himself."

"Dean. Gordon isn't dead but he isn't going to be coming after us either." Sam stated quietly.

"And how is that?"

"I've locked him away." Fred stepped into the room clearly composed. "He's trapped in his own mind. He cannot speak, or move."

Sam grinned at his gaping brother. "Dean, this is Fred. Fred, this is my obnoxious, big brother Dean. Fred here is one of the generation before me, and a total bad ass. Told you I didn't need you to come down." Sam added a quick tongue poke at the end.

"How do you know _how_ to lock someone away? Is that a part of your powers?" Dean questioned.

Fred faltered. And Sam spoke up instead. "Dean, don't it's not a topic you want to get into." He looked back at Fred sympathy in his gaze. The man had looked so broken in the car once he'd suggested it. When Sam himself had asked the answer had been bitten out. _"Sampson, went crazy. He was losing his grip on reality, and his mind was so raw from the attacks. I didn't know I could do it until I just knew I could. I locked Sampson away in his mind. Instead of the screams and blood that the demon was showing I blocked out all other minds, and created a world for him inside his head. As far as he knows he's back at home. With both his mother and father. Everyone important in his life is there supporting him. He has a wife and kids. He's happy. But I hated doing it, Sam. I wish I could have done more."_

"It is one of my powers." Fred stated quietly. "And it is the second time I've done it. I won't do it unless it's necessary."

Dean didn't ask further. He knew someone haunted by a choice when he saw it. "Any rate thanks." He scratched at the back of his head and looked casually around. "I do think however that we should find his notes. Gordon had equally crazy friends, and I don't know how much they know, but we're better off without information in their hands."

They dug around the place a little before searching his car. Finally, Dean realized the man's front bench was tougher than usual and with a twist they found weapons hidden in a slide out compartment. Even Dean had to admire that work. Among the weapons was a journal, like Dean had suspected. Inside was a wave of rants about god and the devil. Crazy even for a hunter. What was interesting was the page that he'd written down all the information on the kids. The useful pages were torn out and the rest of the book set to flame.

Sam pointed Dean afterwards in the direction of the parked car and they took off in the direction.

"What about, Gordon?" Dean finally asked not feeling too sympathetic towards the man, but not wanting to leave his comatose ass there to rot.

"I'll call the local PD in the morning. Anonymous claim."

Dean clapped Sam on the back. "You're an upstanding citizen Sammy."

Sam handed Deans phone to him. He'd grabbed it up in the search for the journal. "And you are a good son who is going to call dad and Bobby and inform them that you and myself are still alive." At Dean's questioning look Sam grinned. "I may have left some voicemails informing them you had been missing, then later taken. I got a call back from them on the drive. Dad and Bobby nearly turned the car around to help me out. I calmed them down only once I promised that Fred was indeed with me and _you_ would call once I had saved your damsel ass."

Dean grumbled and flipped open the phone. "I'm not a damsel."

"I'm sorry who was gagged and tied to a chair?"

xxxOOOxxx

John flipped the phone shut and inhaled deeply relaxing for the first time in a while. It wasn't hard to search out Bobby in the wreck of the home. Bobby was hunched over the leather bound journal, in the study. John kept his tread loud so he didn't sneak up on his friend. "Sam got him. Deans doing okay."

Bobby grunted and straightened. "Good. What happened?"

"Gordon got wise about the demon's interest in kids like Sam. He'd already killed two and was hoping to get Sam's location from Dean. When Dean refused he just took him." John pocketed his phone. "It's hard to swallow though. Gordon was a nut, but I didn't think he was capable of this."

"They kill him?" Bobby asked. He didn't _want_ Gordon dead, but in their line of work sometimes they didn't have a choice.

John shook his head and helped resumed searching through the mess. "He didn't say what happened. Just that Gordon was handled."

"Well, we'll worry about that when we get back." Bobby closed up Elkin's journal and tossed it up and over to John. "I flipped through most of it. The man didn't lie when he said he'd been hunting for a long time. I've got a log going back to the sixties."

John caught the journal, but a wicked grin crossed his face before fading. "You were what, thirty in those days? What did you think of Kennedy?"

Bobby didn't look amused. "1960 I was ten you idjit. I don't see why your throwing stones. You were six. Not much younger."

"But still younger."

"How Sally handles being around you, I don't know? She used to be such a sensible woman." Bobby's eyes narrowed. Now that the journal was moved he saw faint scratches on the wood of the desk. He leaned down to inspect them.

"I'm a gentleman Singer, how Sally 'handles' me is none of your concern. Besides I don't ask Anne if she has any complaints." John nudged over an old smelly take out box. Apparently Elkins didn't cook, because that wasn't the first one he'd found since he showed up with Bobby.

Bobby looked up from his find and notched up an eyebrow. "Trust me. She doesn't. Come look at this Winchester, I think I've got something."

John went serious instantly and he stepped his way carefully to Bobby. "What do you have?"

"Scratches, but I don't think they are just scratch marks." Bobby looked around. "You see a pencil or paper?"

"Uh," John glanced around until his eyes went to the journal. It felt sacrilegious but he tore out an empty page in the back and handed it down. Bobby by then had found a pencil and immediately pressed the paper to the desk and rubbed. "Think it's a message?"

"Pretty sure." Bobby grunted. "It's the kind of think Elkins would do." When finished he lifted the paper. "Oh, yeah it's a note."

John whistled. "Three letters, six digits. The location and combination of a post office box. He taught me that. Well you first, since your older."

"And your boys say that you have no sense of humor." Bobby rolled his eyes. Sometimes he forgot where Sam and Dean got their snark.

xxxOOOxxx

The bar was busy. Sam stepped in and greeted Ellen for the second time that day. The air was much more relaxed now that a very alive and safe Dean was by his side. Ellen had ushered them into the back and only once the door was shut spoke up.

"What happened Dean? How the hell did you let yourself get taken?" She looked both boys over for injuries then to Fred confirming he was okay too. From the short time she'd met him she'd liked the man. He seemed like a pretty grounded man.

"Gordon." Dean ground out. "Put something in my drink. I really didn't have much say in the matter. It doesn't matter Ellen. He knew something he shouldn't and I need to know if he talks to people."

"Everyone talks to people." Ellen scowled disliking the void of information in the question. "Gordon frequents this place whenever he's around. Where is he anyways? And what would he be talking about?" When no one spoke her scowl went lower. "Your daddy comes into my bar and wants to talk to Ash alone. Afterwards Ash stays in his office days. Every now and again that contraption of his goes off and he rushes to call one of you three to spill whatever information he's got. Now I am not stupid. And I do not tattle. I want to know what's going on, before I give out any information of my own."

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance. Finally, Sam looked over at Ellen. "You're right. You've been a part of our family for so long, but we just had Gordon backstab us-"

"And Gordon was a fanatic nut. You tell him the pretzels have fangs and he's the first to chop them into bits. Jo and I would do nothing to hurt you boys." Ellen said quietly.

Once again Sam and Dean looked at each other. Unspoken words exchanged between them and Dean waved his hand towards Ellen. Clearly it wasn't his story to tell. "Ellen, I can do things." Sam finally said. "I can see things before they happen, and I can move things with my mind."

Ellen's face didn't move as Sam spoke of his girlfriend, the demon, and the plan. How Ash was tracking not only potential kids, but demonic activity in search for Azazel. By the end of it she hadn't shown much in the way of emotion.

"You know it isn't your fault." She said quietly.

"What?" Sam wasn't expecting that to be her first statement.

She put a hand on his shoulder. "Jessica's death."

"Why is everyone so stuck on that?!" Sam stated a little exasperated.

"Because you are." She said a sad smile on her face. "Anyways, it's very…crazy what's going on."

Dean hung back the points that Gordon had spilled in his short time of captivity. Sam hadn't heard about the blood. He didn't care to shock Sam, and frankly he felt no one but immediate family deserved to know. Some may have interoperated the information for something it wasn't. Sure the demon logically gave the children demon blood, but it didn't make Sam evil. Sam was the kind of person to care more deeply for the world and its occupants than himself. How was that evil?

"Very crazy." Dean finally vocalized.

"As far as you, and any other poor kid involved goes I haven't heard much. This kid, Max Miller, made the news but it was more due to the death of his family." She read Sam's face, and shook her head. "One of the loose cannons in your generation."

"Unfortunately. He certainly didn't help make a good case on our behalf with Gordon. I'm not saying that all of the kids are good." Sam scratched at the back of his head. "It's like anything else. There's good people and bad people in the world."

Ellen shushed Sam loudly. "I know. I'm not saying anything of the sort. I know some dogs bite and some don't. And beyond that there hasn't been talk about what's going on. As far as Gordon goes he talks to very few people. Not a whole lot of people warm up to him. He's a lot to absorb."

"Who does he talk to?" Dean asked.

"A few other zealots. One of them is a guy named Kubrick, but I know for a fact that they've been out of touch a while. Kubrick is out of country right now. He's journeying through Israel trying to find God." Ellen crossed her arms and leaned up against the wall. "You should be safe unless he's made a new friend, and I highly doubt that. I've already alluded to his people talking skills."

"You have." Fred confirmed.

Ellen glanced over at each man in turn. "I may tell Jo. But our lips are sealed. And you know that if you need to hear the latest gossip from the hunter community I've got it. I'll see If I can't warn you about some other vigilante thinking he's saving the world."

"Thanks Ellen." Sam relief was heartfelt.

"I know it's hard to believe. But you're a good kid." She smirked over at Dean. "Even your brother. That family of yours did a good job in raising you boys right. I just wish you trusted yourselves like everyone else trusted you."

Sam looked uncomfortable and Dean gave a wide cocky grin. "I know. I'd like to think I had a big hand in making Sam a huge sap."

"Probably all the teasing and the pranks you pulled." Sam grinned and notched up an eyebrow.

"Pranks? Teasing? You are talking about yourself right. Christmas, with the whip cream and the feather duster? Or that time that you dared me I couldn't balance two glasses of water on my open palm. You are just as guilty." Dean bumped against Sam a wide, proud grin.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah yeah. Because my pranks were awful compared to yours. Whatever. Thanks for everything Ellen. Before someone wants to take my brother again we should be off. I'm too tired to try and save his ass again today."

"Oh shut up."

 **(Enjoyed it? Feel free to leave a review. Oh and I am totally pimping out another story. Heroes and Monsters is based off of a situation I mention inside chapter 9 of this story, so check it out if you want to know more that what I detailed.)**


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

**(Omg! I know I haven't posted in forever. I kept messing with this chapter and whatever I have written for 22 over and over again. And right now I am in a bit of debate as to how all of this should reach the end, but I will figure it out! Promise!**

 **Mean while thank you to Souless, lenail, and FaithandFamily. I appreciate your reviews. I am so sorry for the wait. I have Hillwood following soon- hopefully.)**

 **Chapter Twenty-One**

There were a lot of situations that Dean regretted in his life. Most of them involved Sam and not having the capabilities to give him everything that he ever wanted. Also informing his brother of awful things. Age 6, Sam was forced into the world of the supernatural thanks to a monster on the lot, and Dean was the one to explain it all. Held his brother until he cried himself to sleep. Age 10 he'd spent hours in the shell of a Cadillac on Bobby's lot and they discussed full detail (what he knew), their mother's death. Those both stood out as some of the worst discussions they've had. He'd seen the guilt that his brother inappropriately bore in the days that followed.

The discussion they were having now wasn't any different, and would certainly be listed as one of the worst conversations. Although the kid could hide things better from strangers, to Dean his brother was an open book. Although to be honest, Dean expected a little more shock when he opened his mouth and spoke the phrase 'demon blood.' To be fair Fred got surprise initially from it but grew thoughtful. Sam didn't expose any emotion. He wrinkled his brow in thought as well as everything he'd experienced the past months came to light.

His visions. His telekinesis. The fact his blood had sizzled under the actions of the holy water. It all made sense. That was the reason why their father had been killed, so that his mother had made the deal. The deal to enter the home and to feed the child demon blood.

"It's all so…involved." Sam said a little stupidly. The facts swirled painfully in his head, and he wasn't aware of the deadpanned tone he took on.

"Yeah well he's made two attempts at whatever end he wants, so he's had his fair share of practice. Let's just hope that he doesn't get what he wants this time around." Fred stated thoughtfully.

Irritation at the same questions surfacing again and again washed over him. "I wish we knew what that was."

"Ash sent me a few links. One of them was a session with some psychiatrist and Scott. How he got it, hell if I know, but he did mention seeing Azazel in his dreams. Azazel tasked him with a job. He said he saw a gun and he was told to open the door to hell." Sam said quietly.

Dean looked shocked. "There's a damn door to hell?"

"Apparently." Sam shrugged. "He didn't mention much more than just that. I don't know if he wants us to knock or kick down the door, but I know that I don't want whatever's inside, out."

"Jesus." Dean exhaled sharply and ran a hand over his face. "Think of the countless demons inside. The damn hell hounds."

Sam watched as Fred grew quiet and the wheels in his head spun. "It could be, but why would he need a super team of kids to open the door to hell?"

"He doesn't." Sam glanced down at his hands. "He just needs one." Sam pushed off the chair and walked over to the window. He braced a forearm against the wall and looked out into the neighborhood. Two kids on bikes rode past. "In the dreams...in the nightmares he hands me the gun and tells me to open the door to hell. He specified that I was his favorite. From his tone he didn't sound like he needed a team."

"That's the other thing Gordon said…" Dean looked at the kids wishing that had been his childhood. "Mom and dad were planned. From the beginning. They planned each couple. Our parents though, were special. Mom was from the Campbell's, and they were accomplished hunters, dad was from the man- Men of Letters. Gordon didn't know what they were and frankly I don't either, but it's something special. Then we're apparently liked directly to Cain. Neither of us would be around if the demons hadn't played matchmaker."

"With what's planned maybe it would be better if we weren't. At least me." Sam's tone went quiet again, and he didn't look away from the window.

"Shut up, Sam." Dean scowled. "I don't see evil horns sprouting anywhere."

"I know." Sam scowled back. "I was trying to say-" He stopped. What was he trying to say? Sure he was thankful to be alive. Not that he didn't feel bad that Jessica and his mother had been victims of him just being in their lives. Logically if it wasn't him it would be someone else in his shoes and he knew he didn't want that either. Then there was the demon blood inside of him, he couldn't help but feel bad that while his father searched for some miraculous cure there wasn't one. Then some unhelpful thought kept whispering that he would go dark. Just like Max. Maybe experiment on animals like Scott and move up to humans for the fun. But Fred hadn't. Fred decided to help with his abilities. He hadn't lied when he spoke to Ellen, there were good and bad people in the world. "I don't know what I was trying to say. I'm not saying, though, that I'm going to sprout horns, Dean."

Dean scoffed good naturedly. "Sure you believe that."

"I would be lying if me going evil wasn't a thought. Logically, Max and Scott were different people, with different lives, and different people around them. I can't base my own situation on them. But there's always going to be that fear that maybe one day-" Sam couldn't finish. "I mean it just a worry."

"Well don't worry about it." Dean snapped. "If- and only _if_ you went dark, I would do everything in my power to get sappy, loser Sam back. If I've tried everything- and I mean everything- and I can't get you back and you _are_ going to cause trouble I will do something. That's exactly how that works."

Fred hitched up an eyebrow. "If you're so sure you're going to go dark side I can help you out now. Lock you away, in a world full of super models and hot rod cars."

Dean looked somewhat interested.

"Okay, okay. Enough, I get it." Sam rubbed a hand across his shadow. It had been a little since he'd last shaved. He'd have to remember to do it the next morning. "All I know for sure is we've got demons playing matchmaker, and Azazel feeding us blood in the middle of the night." Sam tried to clear his head. It was hard after a training session. He discovered from day one that his psychic mind was all too much like an actual muscle. A muscle that had never been worked before. It was hurting trying to train it to do what he wanted.

Dean caught the slight motion as Sam's jaw twitch. "Headache."

Sam laughed, his tone holding a large amount of sarcasm. "Uh- yeah. All I've been getting for the last couple weeks are headaches and nosebleeds. So nothing new. It'll get better though. Once I have control over everything it won't get to me as bad."

There was a hint of uncertainty in Sam's tone leaving it out there that Sam doubted that he could get control. If the kid was uncertain before he was so much more after the small bomb he'd just dropped on the day. "You'll get control. Maybe you can use that shining of yours to become the best damn psychic you can be. Oh by the way, who do you think is the hottest psychic? Patricia Arquette, Jennifer Love Hewitt, or you?"

"Shut up." Sam pulled a beautiful example of a bitch face and Dean felt proud of himself. "I can tell Missouri your distracting me. She'll send you back home in a single blow."

"Let her try." Dean smirked. "Besides, you missed me. I know you did. You'd start crying the second I was gone."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'd have one less headache the second you were gone."

"No you would probably get more from all the crying you would do." Dean laced his hands together and started to lift his feet to the coffee table. "All of you would be so- fuck!"

Dean winced as a wooden spoon launched from the doorway and hit him skillfully in his stomach. The legs intended for the coffee table fell back down to the ground as he hunched over his bruising stomach. The spoon clattered away and he heard Sam chuckle from his own chair.

"Dude, no feet on the coffee table." Sam walked over and scooped up the spoon and gave it back over to Missouri. "She doesn't like it when you put your feet on things it doesn't belong."

Dean coughed harshly, and his voice remained thin. "Are there any other rules that I should know about?"

Sam offered a small shrug as he went back to the chair. "Nothing that comes to mind now. I'll warn you if anything else comes up."

"Thanks for that."

xxxOOOxxx

The P.O. Box yielded a letter. It wasn't directly written for anyone, but it was clear only someone who was close to Elkins would be the recipient of the letter. Elkins didn't know too many people. At least not too many people liked Elkins enough to know him, and Elkins didn't tolerate them back. Bobby had trained temporarily with Elkins when he was starting out and the man was a good hunter. He also drank his way under a table too easily, and unfortunately with alcohol came a loose tongue. He was known for speaking his mind when it was unwanted.

John had trained under Elkins, as well, after Mary had gone. The old man had taken pity on a beginner hunter spurred on by the loss of someone they loved, and given him enough skill to survive. Something John couldn't thank Elkins for enough. He knew he, hell his damn boys, wouldn't be alive today if he hadn't trained with him.

The letter detailed what he contained in his safe, and the combination to unlock it. From their previous search through the home they had seen the safe had been broken into and destroyed, just as Rufus had described. They all figured that something important was in there but based on what was written in the note, it was something far more important than what he thought.

The damn Colt. The very thing that could not only kill- well- everything, but something that shouldn't even exist. If one hunter tucked another hunter in bed and wanted to tell a bedtime story, the story would be about Samuel Colt, the magical gun he created, and it's thirteen bullets.

John settled into the driver's seat of the truck but didn't turn the engine on. He simply waited until Bobby had slid in and shut his door. "If that was indeed what was inside the safe-" John stopped and sighed. He wiped a hand across his face. "-we're going to have to get it back. No question on the matter."

"Let's say Elkin's wasn't totally losing it in his old age and he does have this- this impossible gun." Bobby gapped his mouth open and searched for the words to vocalize his concern. "The things that have it is a nest of vampires. An entire damn nest John. The two of us won't do well against all of them. Elkins had been following those things for a while. He caught their trail when there was five. How many do you think they've created now?"

"I agree." John nodded. "A whole nest of vampires does seem a bit imposing. Especially when we don't know the sheer number they have. That's why we have a community too."

Bobby's eyes lit up. "You thinking Caleb and Jim?"

"Of course. We should make this a party." John grinned already going for his phone.

xxxOOOxxx

Dean sat back and didn't say anything, but that didn't stop him from being concerned. Blood ran freely from his little brother's nose, as plastic cup, after plastic cup was tossed over his head. The concept was simple. He once had been able to move it. Now could he move it in mid-air. Dean figured this was a bit of a jump. That usually they didn't go from one extreme to the next as far as training went, but it wasn't like he had much time to be coddled.

Still didn't mean though that he wasn't eager to rush over and start wiping at the blood.

Another cup was launched over Sam's head and the poor kid tried, but was unable to accomplish the _simple_ action. The cup simply landed in a pile with the others. Dean's foot thudded quietly down from where he rested it upon his other and shifted his weight. Fred at first looked irritated, then his eyes lit up curiously as he looked over at Dean. It wasn't necessarily evil, but it was enough that Dean didn't quite care for it.

Next second the cup launched not innocently over Sam, but towards him. Dean wasn't afraid, just surprised. He held out a hand to stop it, when he didn't have to. The cup in mid-air was jostled, and sent back to sail over all of their heads and smash into the wall.

Sam wiped at his nose, getting more blood on the sleeve of his hoodie and a little breathlessly demanded what Fred was doing.

"You did it. Maybe it lacked control, but you just now did it." Fred glanced over at Dean. "It seems that you have no regard for your own safety, but when it comes to Dean you are prepared to help him."

"Yeah," Sam looked annoyed. "He's my brother. But he's not supposed to be involved in this."

Fred looked over at Dean. "How do you imagine Sam triggered those bombs?"

Dean looked at Sam in surprise. "You triggered them with your mental powers? I thought you threw something or Professor X here did it."

"I didn't need to tell Sam what to do in that instance. The second the boy located the first trigger he simply looked down and it had snapped. The second trigger was harder to find but he triggered that too, nothing thrown just him and his abilities. Sam was mad enough, and worried enough- _about you_ \- that he was able to do it."

Missouri shared a glanced with Fred. "Dean can you stand…"

"No!" Sam burst out. "I can do it. Don't involve him."

"They are plastic cups..." Dean notched up an eyebrow. "I can handle a few Solo cups."

Sam shook his shaggy head. "I can do it."

Sam won out and the next round was launched. Sam missed the first. He grunted angrily when he missed it. The second he missed and Sam glared after it. The third didn't get quiet as much air as the one tossed at Dean. It simply was jostled in mid-air and landed on the kitchen table when it's projection was ruined. The more the kid tried though it was being blocked and sent back. Dean couldn't help but be proud each time the cup was launched away from him, but worried at the sight of the blood that was increasing.

Missouri was the one to stop it, and had she not he would have jumped in to do it himself.

"Enough. The kid gets it. We'll let him rest." She jerked her thumb back towards Dean. "Besides big brother is about to burst if we continue with all this. Sam isn't the only protective one in the bunch."

Dean wanted to gripe but the psychic was right. She was always right. That's what pissed him off so much.

xxxOOOxxx

Kate snuggled with her mate wearing very little. Their playful romp that evening had her in only her black lacy bra and her mate, Luther, in nothing. He'd been initially angry when she'd informed him about her day's activities. She had gone after the guy who had killed his previous nest, his parents being members. She'd caught his scent at one of the seedy bars they had passed and luckily he lived pretty close by. After a quick attack she'd left his body and taken off with a few expensive looking things. One of which being a gun, that had made her mate instantly forget her careless action. That and the snacks she had picked up along the way. The lovely couple who had stopped to help a stranger. A vampiric stranger. She couldn't be blamed for naïve morons.

Luther tensed and his nails temporarily dug into her skin, not that it hurt, and pushed her away.

"What's wrong?" She didn't move and listened to the sounds of birds. Then she recognized it, footsteps. "Think it's someone walking around inside?"

"Everyone should be asleep." Luther growled, and sat up.

That was all the warning they got before glass broke, and the doors to the entrance kicked in. Luther was up and not minding the state of his undress as he pushed through the door way through to larger room of the barn. Already two of his guys were sinking down arrows in them. A third was going down, and he swallowed back his anger at his dwindling numbers. Five members were left and he could only see the two hunters (one with a crossbow and the other with a machete), only the stink that surrounded the area alluded to more hunters, and all smelling of a foul scented mask. No wonder he hadn't sensed them sooner.

The hunter bearing the machete made quick work of beheading The first two shot down. He was headed towards the third of his members down when the newly changed female surprised them all snarled and attacked a fourth hunter he hadn't been aware of. They must have released her under the impression she was human. Then that upped his numbers to nine. Sorry seven.

xxxOOOxxx

John scowled at the previously bound woman. He hated surprises on hunts. And she certainly was a surprise. Based on his previous stake out he could only count the eight vampires. He shook himself from his shock as he watched Pastor Jim grapple with the surprise vampire. John had to assume that Jim had it as he raised his machete and made quick work of beheading the third vampire Caleb had shot down with the arrow dipped in dead man's blood.

The naked vampire from the doorway to the room was moving now and clearly angry. He could have gone after John, who was much closer, but he rushed Caleb and before he could shoot off another shot and knocked the crossbow out of his hand and had the hunter thrown across the room and tangled in the hammocks that they were previously sleeping in.

John gritted his teeth. Three were already down so far so he couldn't get too irritated. Four. Pastor Jim had just won out with the new vampire and was preparing to deal with a female of the pack. John looked around, and regarded Caleb recovering and taking down number five.

Which was perfect as the nude vampire and one male rushed towards him. His mind despite preparing to fight was also counting. There was one more they hadn't seen. As he kicked away one and ducked a punch from the naked vampire, he figured she would be female.

The naked vampire gave a strangled growl and turned away from John. An opportunity John took to deal with his friend and after batting away another attack he swung his machete and ended the undead life of the vampire. The nude vampire was making his way back to the room and John allowed himself to glance over at Jim who was standing over number seven separated from his head.

That just left eight and nine.

"Enough." Bobby growled. He emerged from the separated room and the males panic suddenly made clear. Bobby had the practically naked woman draped in his arms machete at her neck. His own shoulder was bleeding.

Despite the tense situation John grinned. Pastor Jim's call on injecting each other with dead man's blood hadn't been a bad call. Certainly caught her off guard.

"Why are you doing this?" The last standing vampire was furious but resigned. She must be his mate. "We have as much right to live as you do."

"Says you." John growled. "You know what we need."

Despite his lack of clothing and the situation he was in the vampire managed to look a little smug. "I don't know what you need, hunter. Besides you'll just kill her anyways."

Bobby jostled her and she groaned. "Maybe we don't. Maybe the item in question is worth the two of you walking away living. Well in a manner of speaking."

The vampire didn't laugh at the joke. "What's the guarantee that you'll keep your promise."

"We don't need to make deals." Caleb scowled.

"Because you'll search after I'm gone. I can guarantee you though you won't find it." The vampire smiled wide exposing his many sharp teeth. "I went out before bed and hid the gun. Yes, the very Colt that you are looking for is out there in those woods. Good luck searching."

John eyed the vampire and in an almost mocking way wiped the blood he'd drawn from the vampires he'd downed on his pant leg. He didn't miss the wave of hate that was directed his way. "We let you go now. But anyone of us catches wind of you, _anywhere_ , we're hunting your ass and staking your head on the wall. It was stupid to go after Elkins. You kill one, you get all of us."

The vampire raised his hands slowly in a show of surrender. "I wasn't in on that. I told her afterwards how stupid it was. Kate thought she was doing something good for me."

The eldest Winchester didn't appear amused. Not even a twinge of sympathy crossed his face. "Show us where the gun is. Now!"

 **(Thank you for reaching the end. If you have any ideas, comments, or concerns then please leave a review or a PM. Love ya'll!)**


	22. Author Anouncement and Question!

**Author alert:**

This is not dead. I plan on finishing its just I've quite literally written myself into a corner. I am rewriting the story so everything aligns and makes a proper ending.

I've been reading through the chapters and I want to address Sam's powers more, incorperate more Dean. I kind of made Dean more supportive and gave him less starring time.

I'm keeping Fred and Missouri. I'm adding Jodie and Chloe. And I'm sorry, but Jess needs to die. I like her, and I like stories that keep her around- this however does not pertain to what I need from her.

I care what you think as well. I'm currently on rewriting chapter 2 and if you think that or someone or something needs to be taken out (or added) speak now. Of course the final decision comes down to what fits, but I don't mind hearing and applying feedback.

 _Thank you for your time._


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